Really Out To Get You
by Dapperscript
Summary: Blaine has been out with Kurt and his friends a few times. He loves it; he loves spending time with his boyfriend. There's just one thing... he's pretty damn sure Kurt's friends don't like him. And he's pretty sure Kurt doesn't believe him.
1. Chapter 1  Prologue

**Title:** Really Out To Get You (Part 1; Prologue)  
**Author:** DapperScript  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Pairing:** Kurt/Blaine  
**Word Count:** 3,200+  
**Genre: **Humor/Romance, Friendship **  
Summary:** Blaine has been out with Kurt and his friends a few times. He loves it; he loves spending time with his boyfriend. There's just one thing... he's pretty damn sure Kurt's friends don't like him.  
**Spoilers:** Season 2  
**Warnings**: Paranoid!Blaine. Not exactly a warning, but if you're looking for "White Knight", this is not it.  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Glee, or 'Bad Romance' by Lady Gaga. Do not sue me, I has no moneys.

**Author Notes:** Completely an excuse to take Blaine out of his comfort zone. Written for a prompt for the kurt_Blaine community on LiveJournal. Prompt is as follows:

asa_chan: I think most if not all fics have Blaine being the dapper guy he is, accepted by ND, Kurt's family, etc. But what if this is not the case? I want Blaine in trouble.

* * *

It was official. Lady Gaga brought him to tears.

Well, perhaps that wasn't entirely true. No, only a few times had Blaine felt his eyes go so wide that they started to sting.

No, it was more like he was abso-fucking-lutely terrified of the woman, and as the semi-haunting "Rah-rah's" started up, Blaine felt himself freeze. The pencil that he'd been tapping rhythmically on his knee stilled and the arm he'd had wrapped loosely around Kurt's waist suddenly fell slack.

There had been a few times in the past that Blaine had actually found Kurt's obsessive-compulsiveness cute. The teen was religious in his moisturizing regime, and he seemed to have a 'kill-on-sight' tick when it came to high-quality clothes sporting wrinkles (Blaine had found he could use that last one to his advantage. Having Kurt fuss with his clothes even if it had been while telling him off had been quite nice.)

He had also once found the fact that Kurt _had_ to answer every phone call or text cute.

Recent events had since killed that love. Now, hearing Lady Gaga launch into the meat of _Bad Romance_, Blaine startled when Kurt suddenly wriggled off of the couch and made a beeline for his jacket. Without thinking (and, okay, kind of maybe panicking a bit) Blaine muffled a sound in the back of his throat and reached out to grab at Kurt's sleeve before he could get out of range.

The semi-murderous look he was given for _grabbing_ onto what was obviously an expensive shirt let him know he'd be getting an earful later. Quite honestly, at that moment, he didn't care.

"Uh-"

"Blaine, let go. That's my phone," Kurt stated in a much-too-calm tone that Blaine knew either meant trouble, or meant Kurt suspected he had been kicked in the head.

"I know. But, uh, we're..." He paused and glanced down at the papers on his lap. "St-studying! Maybe you can call them back, uh, later…?" Blaine finished sheepishly, flashing what he hoped was a dazzling grin instead of the nervous lip twitch he suspected it really was.

"Right, studying," Kurt deadpanned back, blinking slowly.

Frowning, Blaine subtly tried to curl his fingers tighter in Kurt's sleeve, tugging back as the phone ended its third go through the 'Rah-rah's.

"Well, we are."

"You think that," Kurt drawled back, wrenching his sleeve out of Blaine's fingers. "I'm going to answer my cell and you can keep playing footsie with your pencil."

Blaine blinked down at the pencil still in his left hand, feeling his heart triple its pace as he heard Kurt rummaging through his jacket for his phone. "I was tapping my knee."

"Knee-ie, then," Kurt rolled his eyes, "whatever, I'm taking this."

"But-,"

"Blaine!"

Both eyebrows shooting up as Kurt whirled around to give him _The Look, _Blaine pressed his lips together visibly and held his hands up in defense. Thankfully, this seemed to be all the reassurance Kurt needed before he turned back to his phone. Kurt cut Gaga off halfway through her last run through of: "_Want your bad romance!"_ and Blaine's hands fell back down onto his thighs, his head tipping back as he felt his stomach begin to twist and turn once again.

To his credit, he only half-listened to Kurt's side of the conversation, instead trying to set up a rhythm with his pencil on his knee once more. His boyfriend had been right – they hadn't _actually_ been studying. Blaine had been trying to work up the nerve to ask Kurt if a bit of making out would be out of the question – something that he normally would have just gone for. That is, he would have gone for it had Kurt not clearly had a bad day as far as the actual Dalton schoolwork had been concerned.

Though he was sure many, _many_ people would argue to the contrary, there were times that Blaine wasn't completely clueless. One look at Kurt's drawn expression and how thin his lips had been pressed when he'd answered the door, and Blaine knew that getting his boyfriend to unwind would be a bit more difficult than he'd hoped for.

A sudden laugh – well, more like a giggle, but Kurt would flay him alive if he even _thought_ that - sounded from across the room, and Blaine tuned in just long enough to take note of the relaxed slope of Kurt's back. His eyes looked brighter, stunning in a way that made Blaine's own tension slide away for a moment.

Okay, so, maybe getting Kurt to unwind wasn't _as_ difficult as he'd assumed it would be. He just needed to talk to his friends, and Blaine understood that much. Even so… he felt that flutter of unease slide back into his chest and his pencil started bouncing off of his knee at a much faster pace.

"Oh my God, he did not," Kurt was saying, looking positively wicked, eyes alight with whatever gossip was being sent his way. "He must be changing before I see him, or something. I want pictures, Mercedes. Lots of them – I will not have that boy throwing on any old thing now. We're family! He officially represents my side of the family as well."

Kurt paused, and Blaine had the sneaking suspicion that if there had been a phone cord around, Kurt would have been twirling it around his fingers. A cute mental image, but Blaine had already begun to shift nervously the very _second_ he'd heard the name "Mercedes" escape lips he suspected he wasn't going to get to kiss that night.

"You make sure to do that. Get me something I can really go to town with and I swear I will drown you in tots, you wonderful woman."

As nervous as he was, Blaine had to chuckle at that. Kurt's friends from New Directions were still really good to him, he couldn't argue that, even after the teen had been at Dalton for so long. That kind of devotion was rare, and he was honestly really glad that Kurt had that to fall back on.

Even so, the very second he heard Kurt chuckle and say: "You too, have a good night," and the cell beep as it powered down, Blaine felt his heart attempt to leap out of his chest through his throat.

He grabbed his most easygoing smile as Kurt turned around again, looking lighter and flushed with pleasure at having talked to his friends once again. Seeing his boyfriend so happy did wonders for Blaine's own attempt at a smile, even if he already knew what was coming (and thus his smile was a bit crooked still.)

Ever the gentleman, Blaine once again held out the arm that had held Kurt back only moments before. Kurt seemed to consider it for a second before he rolled his eyes in a much more good-natured manner and settled back on the couch, pressing up against Blaine's side. Obediently, Blaine curled his fingers around Kurt's side, allowing his arm to relax once more as they settled back into their impromptu cuddling-but-not-making-out-session.

Or rather, they would have had Kurt not sent Blaine the most heart-melting smile and set his chin on his boyfriend's shoulder.

"That was Mercedes. She was calling to make sure we were still coming over on Friday. Apparently Finn has been committing some _serious_ crimes against clothing while I've been away. Clearly this needs to be put down before anyone gets too attached to it and I believe it will take more than just one – admittedly _fabulous_ – gay boy to do it. You're up for it, hm?"

Even though the lilt at the end made it clear that it had _not_ been a question, Blaine felt his resolve waver a bit. He looked everywhere but Kurt's eyes for a few seconds (which really meant that he had to stare at his boyfriend's hair lest the lips distract him), trying not to let his smile waver at all.

"Uhm...we, uh… we have a lot of homework, you know."

"Oh please," Kurt scoffed, sliding his chin down so he could instead press his cheek to Blaine's shoulder. "You've got it covered on your end, and all I need is to find an upscale mall to try on clothes until I bleed fabric softener. Then I'll be right as rain to finish the weekend's work, don't you worry. It'll be fun!"

"Uh, yeah..." Blaine trailed off, chuckling in a way that he instantly winced over. That had sounded _far_ too avoidant even to his own ears, and he could almost _see_ the suspicion suddenly jump into Kurt's eyes.

He suddenly had his boyfriend's undivided attention for the first time that night, and he kind of wished the couch would swallow him whole.

Suddenly finding the ceiling a fascinating piece of architecture, Blaine shrugged the shoulder that wasn't laden down with suspicious boyfriend. "I'm, having a bit of an issue with, uh, math, you see. I may actually need the weekend to… you know… study. "

"Blaine. You showed me your last test; Wes all but bitched you out for getting a higher mark than he did." Kurt frowned, his fingers drumming on Blaine's thigh in a way that would have been completely awesome had it not been due to the _look_ he was being given. "What's going on? Do you not _want_ to spend time with me, or something?"

Once again, Blaine was no idiot. He heard the slightly unsure lilt beyond the superior drawl that escaped Kurt's lips. He straightened instantly, making sure to look directly into Kurt's eyes. "No, no that is not it _at all_, I promise."

"Well..." Kurt frowned deeper, but Blaine was pleased to note that the insecurity seemed to have abated, "then what is it?"

Letting out a sigh that puffed his cheeks out in a way he hadn't intended, Blaine resisted the deep-set-urge he had to rake his fingers back through his hair. It was still gelled down in place so he knew he'd be unable to do so, but the nervous gesture still niggled at him.

"Um..."

"Blaine, seriously. What is it? You know you can talk to me, right?"

"Sure, yes, of course I do. It's just..."

Kurt tipped his head to the side and Blaine felt a rush of affection cloud his nerves at the way Kurt's cheek squished a bit as it met his shoulder. "Just…?"

Just. Right. Blaine swallowed, his inward worries rearing their heads for the umpteenth time that week.

"It's… it's just, uh. Your friends, your, um… family-"

"What," Kurt began, drawing back to semi-glare at his boyfriend.

Sensing the danger before it had even managed to fully raise its head, Blaine quickly let go of his pencil and held up his free hand, pulling Kurt closer to his side. "Your friends and family are _awesome_, Kurt, please hear me out?" He frowned imploringly, "please?"

Though clearly still unsure and on the defensive, Kurt nodded, his brows drawn down suspiciously. There was no verbal answer. That, more than anything else was what eventually loosened Blaine's lips.

The shorter teen let out a deep, heavy sigh, glancing to the ceiling again. "I don't think they like me."

"What?" Kurt scoffed, arching an eyebrow incredulously. "Shut up, of course they do."

"No, um..." Blaine shifted, 'awkward' all but rolling off of him in waves. "Seriously. I don't think they like me, Kurt. … That Rachel girl, for instance."

Kurt blinked, falling just shy of frowning. "What about her?"

"You know a few weeks ago when we all met up for coffee?"

"I seem to recall something of the sort, yes. What about it?"

"Well," Blaine began only to trail off. His hand had come very close to trying to rake back through his hair and he stubbornly set it on his thigh, sending it a half-glare of sorts. He paused to collect his thoughts.

Unfortunately – or perhaps very fortunately – 'collecting his thoughts' seemed to take a hair too long for Kurt. Instead of rolling his eyes or sighing imperiously, however, Blaine gave a small start as he felt his boyfriend's fingers curl over the hand on his thigh.

The gentle reassurance was equal parts embarrassing as it was genuinely reassuring. On one hand – Blaine knew that he must have been projecting 'insecure' like anything for Kurt to have openly offered his brand of support. (Hand holding: Kurt had shyly confided in him once about the special significance it had for him, and ever since, Blaine had been careful to make sure to never take that for granted.) On the other hand, having Kurt's silent support really did mean a lot to him and he drew himself up a bit more with a longer breath.

"Okay, well… see, when you went out to get the order… I don't know." He frowned, falling _just_ shy of fidgeting again. "It left me alone with Mercedes and Rachel. And, uh, it was kind of awkward without you there, yeah, and then when I tried to, you know… _talk_ to them, they just..."

"Just…?" Kurt prompted again.

Sighing again, Blaine shifted in his seat. He was seriously not good at expressing himself – even when it was as simple as repeating what someone had said to him.

"Just... I tried to compliment Rachel on her outfit, but before I got halfway through, she, uh..."

"Cut you off and cut in?" Kurt drawled, sounding a lot like he'd been expecting this.

Blaine blinked. "Um, if you want to—Yeah, in a matter of speaking. Kind of..."

"That's _Rachel_, Blaine. If she's not being nosy and self-centered, _then_ let me know. Trust me, that is completely normal."

"But, uh, she... she seemed pretty angry at me."

Instead of raking his fingers back through his hair, Blaine paused to squeeze Kurt's hand, taking some solace in the act even if Kurt wasn't exactly listening. Well...no, no he was likely listening just fine. Blaine just wasn't communicating – something he found to be an issue more than he'd like to admit.

Advice was all well and good when he was giving it to someone _else_.

"Again, completely normal." Kurt huffed a soft laugh of sorts and leaned in against Blaine's shoulder. "But for the sake of this conversation and my curiosity, what did she say?"

Blinking, Blaine allowed his mind to drift back to the day in question and his lips pulled into an awkward soft of grimace. "Um, well..."

* * *

"_Let's get a few things straight here." Rachel had cut in, glaring. "One, I do not need your comments on my clothing. If I wanted an opinion like the one you undoubtedly have, there are _plenty_ of Cheerios to go to. Two, _Don't Cry For Me, Argentina_ is an _amazing_ song selection! It is _Evita_, and better than _any_ song your club could have come up with."_

"_Wh- I-I wasn't going t-"_

"_And thirdly, you may just have Kurt wrapped around your little finger right now, but let's make one thing _very_ clear. If _any_ of us find out that anyone in your school – yourself included – even _considers_ turning 'Karofsky' on Kurt-" _

"_We will cut _**you**_. Personally. You feelin' us?" Mercedes had cut in, her voice dark enough to limit Blaine to only a clipped nod and a thick swallow. "Good. Don't think you can waltz all in here and win us over like you did Kurt. Boy's been through enough, you hear me? Make sure it doesn't get any worse, _or else_."_

_Before Blaine could find his voice and reassure both _very distrusting females_ that his intentions were nothing but pure, Kurt had slipped back in with a whine heavy in his voice. _

"_The drinks won't carry themselves, you know. Get up and help, you lazy idiots."_

_The flurry of smiles and _normal_ had caught Blaine by surprise. So much so that he honestly thought he'd imagined the whole thing – up until he'd received matching glares from Rachel and Mercedes upon Kurt's back turning._

_He'd known then that he was in deep shit._

* * *

There was no way in hell that he could tell Kurt all of that. Blaine knew better than most just how sensitive and uncomfortable Kurt was when Karofsky's influence was brought up. It was something his boyfriend was slowly getting better with, but he couldn't just bring up the name and ruin that curious little smile on Kurt's lips.

He just couldn't.

"Well," he started again, fidgeting despite himself. "Rachel mentioned something about Cheerios and her clothes. She seemed pretty upset... and then something about '_Don't Cry For Me, Argentina'_?"

While he was expecting Kurt to skim over the importance of the details, he was _not_ expecting his boyfriend to chuckle at that. Blaine frowned. "What?"

"Again, Blaine. That's _Rachel_. She was the one who told me to sing that song – she probably took it personally that the Warblers didn't appreciate her 'superior genius'."

Blaine highly doubted that – the woman had looked _scary_. "Um, maybe." He paused, then added in a questioning tone: "Mercedes said she would cut me…?"

"And that, my dear Mr. Anderson, is Mercedes." Kurt rolled his eyes but the implied 'idiot' wasn't really a sting when Blaine felt the teen's thumb brush comfortingly over his hand. "You're just one of the gang, now, I'm sorry to say. You and all the crazy that goes with it."

Kurt reached up with his free hand after a brief shift in position, smiling in a pseudo-coy manner. He flicked Blaine on the forehead, grinning. "Welcome to the club. I'd say we've got jackets, but that seems kind of redundant considering the uniform dress code."

Even with the way his stomach was still twisting in unease, Blaine still smiled at the sour face Kurt pulled after that statement. "Still not growing on you?"

"'Uniformity' and 'Kurt Hummel' do not mix, I'll have you know."

"Oh, I believe it," Blaine grinned back, his face lighter now even with the impending doom on the horizon. "You are much too fabulous for that."

"Oh, you know it." Kurt winked quickly.

Before Blaine could gather his thoughts again, Kurt interrupted them completely by leaning in. The kiss that slid over his lips was sweet, and chaste, and shy, and had no right making his whole world tunnel vision in on the wonder that was his boyfriend. He could have at least held out until Kurt did that nip-kiss to his lower lip that set his breathing all askew, but the mass of uncertainty and worry that had been plaguing him ever since he'd heard the ringtone meant he was apparently easy to please that night.

Besides, Kurt's lips were soft and warm. The taller teen fit right against him and gave his hand a smaller squeeze as he pulled away, only to set his forehead against Blaine's, smiling.

"They like you just fine, don't worry, okay? Come with me on Friday, you'll see."

Even if worry did indeed shoot up at the mention of 'Friday', Blaine couldn't bring himself to even _begin_ to argue when Kurt looked at him so earnestly. Those gorgeous blue eyes would be the death of him, he was sure.

"Yeah," he swallowed, mustering up a smile in return, "Friday. Wouldn't miss it."


	2. Chapter 2  Meet The Family

Come Friday afternoon, Blaine had gone beyond having second thoughts. He was well into fourth, seventh, _tenth_ thought territory. By the time he'd hit around number twenty Blaine seriously considered just calling the whole thing off. It had been a long, long while since he'd last faked being sick, but he wondered if this wasn't the perfect time to see if he still had the ability.

Unfortunately, upon remembering that he was sitting in the passenger's seat of his boyfriend's truck and that they were only minutes away from the Hudson-Hummel residence (and that leaping from a moving vehicle would likely rip the knees off the pants Kurt had spent twenty minutes convincing him to wear and thus, was probably unadvisable), Blaine sank lower in his seat.

On the plus side, Kurt was all but humming with energy. There had been a time, a few minutes ago, that Blaine had been tempted to poke Kurt on the nose and see if he could light up the screen of his iPod with sheer excitement alone. It was an idea he'd quickly abandoned due to sheer lunacy but he couldn't help himself.

He was going to his boyfriend's house.

Not just Breadstix or the coffee shop closer to Dalton that Blaine had introduced Kurt to. He was going to Kurt's actual house, where Kurt's actual Father and actual Step-Mother and Step-Brother were living.

How Kurt seemed so relaxed and easygoing, Blaine had absolutely no idea. He would have suspected Kurt to be even more unsettled than he was, but that was clearly not the case.

Blaine glanced sidelong at Kurt, watching the way his fingers tapped out a random beat on the steering wheel as he half-hummed, half-sang to himself. Kurt was the epitome of relaxed and thrilled. His lips were pulled up in that half-smile of his and now and then he'd glance at Blaine with a clearly excited look in his eyes.

Blaine couldn't help but smile back at each of those looks, even if he silently wondered if he was going to be sick. He seriously hoped the urge wouldn't kick in when Mr. Hummel first saw him. Dear God, that would really _just_ be his luck, wouldn't it?

"Hey," Kurt said suddenly, tipping his head in Blaine's direction without taking his eyes off of the road. "I know you were a bit worried about coming along, but I'm really glad you did. They're going to adore you. All of them."

"Yeah?" Blaine hadn't actually meant that to come out as a question and he glanced out the window as Kurt turned to give him a slightly curious look.

"Of course," his boyfriend said, slowly. "Why wouldn't they?"

Blaine could think of _quite_ a few reasons.

"Exactly," Kurt cut back in, smiling. "Chin up, that's my place there."

Blaine looked vaguely in the direction that Kurt suddenly pointed, despite himself. He was nervous and uncertain, and a niggling doubt remained in the back of his mind, but he was still honestly very interested to see where Kurt called 'home'.

It wasn't anything impressive by typical Dalton standards, but Blaine instantly took in a few things as Kurt pulled into the driveway.

One, the yard was _pristine_. He could almost see a woman's touch in the flowers planted near the front of the house, and how _green_ the yard was. Either it had been painted (something he doubted Kurt would _ever_ allow) or the care that had gone into it was honestly humbling.

There were a few vehicles in the driveway, Blaine noted as the truck he was sitting in suddenly switched off. One truck looked rather worn and beaten-in, and he silently suspected it belonged to Burt Hummel. He'd heard a little about Mr. Hummel's work from Kurt and it seemed the type of vehicle that could be counted on as "reliable".

There was a simpler, likely used car that had 'feminine' written all over it, and Blaine wasn't sure if it belonged to Carole or one of the kids from New Directions.

Just as Blaine's stomach took a plummet off of some unknown cliff at the _thought_ of Kurt's friends, he suddenly found a hand on his shoulder. Snapping back to reality, he turned back to Kurt. Blaine could see the faint line between his boyfriend's eyebrows, could see the slightly unsure and hopeful look he was given.

He knew what to say even before it became clear to him that Kurt was nervous in any way.

"It looks great, Kurt." Blaine smiled, glancing quickly in the direction of the Hudson-Hummel residence to make sure there was no one watching them, before he leaned in to kiss Kurt on the cheek. "I mean it. I don't even think the grounds at Dalton are this well-cared for."

Watching that line on Kurt's brow soften at both the kiss and the compliment, Blaine smiled as Kurt drew back. He looked excited once again, almost giddy.

"That would be Carole. She's religious with the yard. I'm not exactly sure why, but Finn tells me that it has some significance, and that it's probably better not to ask."

"If Finn says not to, I can see why you haven't," Blaine chuckled, unbuckling his seat belt as he noticed Kurt doing the same.

"True, true." A pause, as Kurt pocketed his keys. Then: "Well... shall we?"

Blaine suddenly swallowed again, feeling his stomach all but drop to his toes. "Yes, yes we shall."

He managed not to drag his feet as Kurt all but raced across the yard to the front door. He spent the whole (albeit rather short) walk trying to fix his tie, and wondering why he even _had_ his tie to begin with. Why hadn't he taken it off? He could have worn a scarf instead!

Okay, so… maybe it had had something to do with the fact that Blaine couldn't tie a tie for the life of him, and Kurt always seemed so excited to do it for him. Back at Dalton, wearing a tie had seemed a wonderful idea.

Now, standing on the Hudson-Hummel doorstep as Kurt unlocked the door, gave a quick rap on the wood, and walked right inside, wearing a tie seemed like an _awful_ idea.

Unsure what to do with his hands, his feet, _himself_, Blaine lingered at the doorway for a few seconds longer even after Kurt vanished from view. Was he supposed to just...walk in? Did he take his shoes off at the door? Was he expected to hang his own jacket up? And – Oh God, he didn't even know where the closet was!

The trip had taken a good two hours, and only _now_ Blaine realized he'd asked next to nothing about the house rules, and God, was he an idiot!

An excited, and rather unanimous: "Kurt!" sounded from within, and Blaine felt his stomach do an odd flop of unease. He had heard at least four different voices, and he'd been convinced that he'd heard both Rachel and Mercedes in the mix. There was another female voice that he didn't recognize, and hearing Kurt answer: "Hey guys!" while laughing implied that there were more friends involved in the greeting than there were family.

Carefully poking the door further open with his finger and worrying his lower lip between his teeth, Blaine chanced a look inside. There didn't seem to be anyone in the hallway and so, taking a deeper breath and steeling himself, he slowly edged inside.

There were shoes at the doorway and that alone gave Blaine enough of a hint that he was to take his footwear _off_ before he went any further.

Dropping to one knee to unlace his wingtips, whilst trying to calm his erratic heartbeat (and steady _intensely_ shaking hands), Blaine only noticed too late that another pair of shoes had entered his field of vision.

In fact, he only noticed that someone else was there when the foot began to _tap_ in front of him.

"Dalton kid, right?" Came the gruff, not-amused voice from in front of him, and Blaine snapped his head back so fast his neck almost kinked.

He had seen Kurt's father a few times before – usually at football games - but their conversations had been next to nothing, and brief. Blaine had known back then that Burt Hummel was _not_ someone to get on the wrong side of.

The appraising and suspicious look he was being given now only worsened as Blaine's brain froze completely. His mouth opened and closed for a few seconds as he felt his stomach attempt to divorce his body before he managed to catch up to the rest of himself.

He was on his feet in an instant, back ramrod straight and hoping beyond anything that his smile looked friendly and not _completely freaked out_.

"Y-yes! Mr. Hummel, uh, Dalton, yes." Oh lord, he sounded like a crazy. "Blaine, sir. Um, Anderson. Blaine Anderson."

Unsure what to do with his hands, Blaine inclined his head in a quick nod, belatedly holding his hand out after. Only then did he realize how much taller Mr. Hummel was and he kind of wanted to curse his boyfriend for running off and leaving him to his first 'father encounter' alone.

He'd met Mr. Hummel before, yes. He had _not, _however_,_ met the man since becoming involved with his son. This was the first time Burt Hummel fell under the: 'Oh my god, boyfriend's father' category and Blaine realized all too quickly that he had _no_ idea if Kurt had even told his father that they were dating.

Burt looked down his nose at the hand offered to him and Blaine could feel the weight of distrust with every passing second. Feeling his insides all but liquefying, Blaine concentrated on schooling his smile to something respectable, eyebrows slightly raised, posture corrected. He could be a gentleman if he had to; it was hard to be angry with a gentleman.

Or, rather, it usually was. If anything, Mr. Hummel's expression drew down even more and Blaine had to keep himself from backing down instantly. He swallowed, hoping the dragging bob of his Adam's apple wasn't as visible as he assumed it had been.

"Blaine Anderson," Burt repeated, his voice remaining easy but the hidden steel behind it was palpable. "One of Kurt's _friends_ from Dalton. You were at the last game, right?"

Blaine nodded with as much of a boy-next-door smile as he could muster. "Yes, sir, and the game before that. I'm the, uh, 'vertically challenged' f-friend, uh, remember?"

Mr. Hummel raised an eyebrow and Blaine belatedly realized he had _never_ been so terrified of a man in a ratty baseball cap before. Of course, not every man in a ratty baseball cap had just confirmed that Kurt _hadn't told his father yet_ and Blaine wondered if maybe he really was going to be sick.

"Mmh," Burt answered, still looking down at Blaine's offered hand as if he was considering cutting it off.

Just as Blaine began to slowly curl the tips of his fingers and draw his hand back, though, the much larger man suddenly reached out and grabbed it. Feeling his knuckles grinding together at the sheer _force_ of Mr. Hummel's grip, Blaine quickly grit his teeth and concentrated on smiling. He would have likely made some sort of displeased sound had Mr. Hummel not been _staring_ at him like he was trying to size up how easy it would be to take him out back and shoot him.

"Yeah, I remember you," Burt finally grunted, his eyebrows no less drawn than they had been before. If anything, he sounded even _angrier_. "You watchin' out for Kurt?"

The grip on his hand tightened and Blaine couldn't help his shoulder hitching as his arm attempted to relieve the pain. "Y-yes, sir. Of course I am."

"Nothing fishy's been goin' on? He's eatin' well and keepin' up in his studies?"

"Yes, sir," Blaine nodded as calmly as he could. Making sure to meet Mr. Hummel's eyes, even as he felt his soul try to crawl into a dark hole to hide, Blaine offered as serious a smile as he could muster. "I promise. If there was ever an issue, you would be the first to know."

"_Yes_, I would be," Burt stated back firmly. One eyebrow raised and Blaine could _feel_ the threat rolling off of the man in front of him.

Blaine swallowed thickly. "If… if you'd like, I'd be happy to leave my cell number with you. Just in case you ever need to reach me…"

Though the glare directed at him softened slightly, Blaine still wasn't sure if he'd done the right thing in saying that.

"You leave your number with just anyone, Anderson?"

_Shit_. "N-no, sir. Not at all. Only my family, a few close friends, and your son."

"_And my son_?" Burt repeated, and Blaine noticed his mistake _way_ too late. "He doesn't fall under 'close friend'?"

Blaine's brain _almost_ seized up again, and he was convinced that just for a second or two, he looked like a scared little girl as he gaped at Mr. Hummel. Thankfully, his mouth started working a few seconds before his brain did.

"O-of course he does, sir. But – if you'll forgive me – it seems, um, rude to just… lump your son in with the others when I'm in your house. He deserves more, um, respect than that. Wouldn't you agree, uh, sir?"

Burt looked Blaine up and down just once, as if sizing him up. Then Blaine suddenly found his hand released and he drew it back to his side as casually as he could.

"Yeah," Burt nodded, eyes narrowed in suspicion but the danger had passed. "I do agree. Make sure you keep that outlook, Anderson. Understand?"

"Yes, sir, of course."

Again Burt nodded and then glanced away just for a split second. Blaine took the opportunity to try and rub some life back into his hand.

"Shoes come off at the doorway, and you can hang your jacket up in the closet. S'just that door right there."

He indicated a small, wooden door that Blaine had seen upon first coming in and the teen nodded his understanding.

"Kurt's just inside, with his friends. Best behavior, y'hear?"

Blaine nodded instantly, bending slightly at the waist to offer a faint bow to Kurt's father. "Of course, sir. I never intended otherwise."

"Right," Burt muttered back, but he still nodded and made his way off into the adjacent room.

Blaine watched just long enough to see the man sit down on the couch in front of the television before he once again dropped to his knees to unlace his other wingtip. He slid both off, lining them up at the door and finally made his way inside, hanging up his coat in the closet as he'd been directed.

That had literally been one of the most terrifying experiences of his life.

"Kurt?" Blaine called out weakly, as soon as he was able.

"In here!"

Taking a deeper breath to try and calm nerves that screamed 'his father hates you!', Blaine reached up to fix his tie once more, straightened his shirt and then followed the sound of his boyfriend's voice.

Kurt _so_ owed him for this.

* * *

Unfortunately, Kurt didn't _know_ that he owed Blaine for this trip. It took a bit of searching (and a should-I, shouldn't-I crisis about checking upstairs) but eventually Blaine managed to locate his boyfriend.

Though he could still feel his nerves drawn tight and the stress really plucking at his nerves, Blaine couldn't help but smile when he eventually came across Kurt.

The other teen had seated himself in the kitchen, around the small island. He was already finger-deep in what looked to be vegetables and dip, and he was completely surrounded by his friends. Except for the seat directly beside Kurt, Blaine was pleased to note. Kurt had apparently been saving it for him, and a glance at a disgruntled-looking Finn (who had taken the seat beside the empty one) kind of helped to confirm that.

"Where _were_ you? I swear, I turn my back for a second and you wander off." Kurt rolled his eyes and gestured to the seat beside him. "Come, come, sit, sit. Assist us. Finn is insisting that he is dressed 'just fine' and we beg to differ."

'We' consisted of Kurt, Mercedes and Rachel. There was another girl there too that Blaine didn't recognize quite as much, but he recalled Kurt talking about the 'Asian couple' of Tina and Mike. Based on the fact the girl at the table was clearly Asian and kind of really-weird-gothic, he was willing to bet that she was Tina.

"I got, uh, held up. I'm sorry, Kurt." Blaine grinned sheepishly, absently drawing his shirt a bit closer as he walked over to the offered seat.

He didn't know if he was just paranoid, or if Kurt was just _that_ blind, but he could _feel_ the waves of displeasure rolling off towards him. A quick glance proved that he obviously wasn't the most popular person at the table.

Mercedes rolled her eyes faintly before turning away to glance at Rachel. They both shared a look and then – much too sweetly, chorused: "Hey, Blaine," together.

"See?" Kurt muttered under his breath.

No, no, Blaine didn't really see at all but he still smiled like he did, and he gave a nod. "Hello. Mercedes, Rachel, it's nice to see you again." He glanced sidelong at the jock that was seriously _way too tall_ and looking at him like he was confused as to what Blaine was doing there. Blaine nodded to him too. "Finn. A pleasure. And, uh…"

He glanced in the goth-girl's direction, offering as charming a smile as he could. "I'm guessing… Tina? Kurt's told me a lot about you – all of you."

"Yeah," Tina confirmed, almost seeming to frown at Rachel and Mercedes for a second before she looked back at Blaine. "He's told us a lot about you too."

"Yes, yes, yes," Kurt cut in, rolling his eyes. "You all know each other – yay – now, onto actual matters."

Leaning forward to look past Blaine, Kurt fixed his step-brother with a _look_. "That is _not_ an acceptable fashion statement, Finn. Tell me you did not wear that to school today."

Finn blinked, looking wholly uncomfortable. "Uh… I… did not wear this to school today…?" He grinned, hopefully.

"Mm-mm," Mercedes cut in, whipping out her phone so fast that Blaine flinched away from it. Thankfully her razor-sharp-phone-reflexes weren't aimed at him. Instead, she clicked around for a second or two and then held the device out to Kurt, across the table. "Take a look and see."

Kurt took one look at the photo on-screen and his jaw dropped. "Finn Hudson, this is unacceptable!"

"It _was_ pretty bad," Tina offered, twirling a straw in what looked to be some sort of smoothie from where Blaine was sitting.

"Not _so_ bad," Rachel muttered to herself, but at the look Kurt shot her, she straightened up. "Completely awful, Finn, I agree. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Finn frowned and both his hands rose up to press to his shirt. It was rather reminiscent of a woman hiding her bosom from a group of drunken men but Blaine was just a bit too stretched thin to find it as funny as he knew he would later.

"It's _comfortable_," Finn insisted, shifting in his seat. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to be comfortable."

"There _is_ when 'comfortable' means lime green and orange." Kurt sniffed, grimacing. "I have half a mind to burn that."

"No!" Finn jerked back, eyes wide. "No burning, I _like_ this shirt!"

Kurt scowled and then glanced at Blaine. Sensing his cue (and knowing there would be hell to pay later if he didn't speak up) Blaine shrugged, grinning over at Finn. "It _is_ pretty bad. Maybe you could just… I don't know, use it to sleep in? If it's so comfortable."

"An _excellent_ idea," Kurt chimed in, biting into a carrot stick with a sharp snap. "Girls?"

Blaine didn't miss the slightly disgusted looks he was sent, even if Tina seemed to be going through the motions with hers.

"Yeah, sounds good to me," Mercedes grumbled.

"I suppose it'll have to do," Rachel sighed.

Finn scowled in full-on-petulance. "I _like_ this shirt!"

"You can still keep it if you sleep in it," Blaine reminded him, smiling in what he thought was a reassuring manner.

Instead of reassuring Finn, though, it seemed to honestly creep him out. The quarterback leaned away uncomfortably, looking everywhere _but_ at Blaine for a second before shrugging. "I don't see what the big deal is. It's just a shirt."

"Lime green is like _asking_ to be slushied, Finn," Tina frowned.

"Not so bad," Rachel muttered to herself, but Blaine figured he was the only one that heard her.

It was his turn to frown, cutting in before Kurt could launch into a second tirade. "Wait, wait... I thought the slushies had stopped."

"For awhile," Mercedes cut in, lips pressing together in a way that Blaine _knew_ meant trouble if he tried to argue. "Jocks apparently have short attention-spans."

"Go figure," Tina agreed, rolling her eyes.

"I thought you were on the football team?" Blaine glanced at Finn, curious.

He wasn't expecting the darker look suddenly sent his way. "I am," Finn said slowly, a mix of shame and anger seeming to imprint itself on his features. "But it's kinda hard to stop anything when they don't give a shit about you or your friends."

Blaine noted only a second after that Rachel had apparently snagged Kurt in conversation during that last exchange between he and Finn. As such, Blaine could only nod, trying to find a grin somewhere deeper inside to flash in reassurance.

"Uh, yeah. I didn't mean anything, you know, _bad_ by it. I promise. I was just curious..."

"Yeah, well… don't be," Finn rolled a shoulder uneasily and poked half-heartedly at a carrot stick. "No reason for _you_ to care."

"What? No, I—" Blaine began only to wince as Kurt suddenly cut back in.

"Seriously, Finn. Seriously – that shirt has to go. You are allowed to keep it, but _only_ because I am feeling so merciful."

Blaine winced, expecting the worst, but Finn only grumbled to himself and stood up. "Fine, fine. God, I'll change my shirt."

It didn't sound like he was upset. In fact, Blaine was convinced that he could hear some odd form of affection in Finn's voice, and the way Rachel smiled seemed to back that up.

"I'd be happy to help!" She stood up too, rushing off before Finn could even tell her 'no', though the retort was clearly on his lips.

If Blaine had thought his comments to Finn had escaped Mercedes and Tina, however, he was sorely mistaken. The confusion (likely as to why Rachel and Mercedes hated him) in Tina's face was gone, replaced with something tight and drawn and annoyed.

Blaine sank down a little in his seat. Oh yeah, yeah, they hated him. That much was very, _very_ clear.

* * *

"They hate me," Blaine announced three hours later on the ride home, and he must have looked wholly pathetic and like someone had kicked his puppy, because Kurt barked a disbelieving laugh at the statement.

"What? Seriously, Blaine? Again? They do not."

"You didn't _see_ them, Kurt," Blaine muttered back, and he honestly didn't care if he was whining. Three hours of being glared at, talked _at – _not _to_ – and grudgingly included in the whole 'friendship' spiel had seriously done its job at fraying his confidence. People liked him. He was Blaine Anderson! He was dapper to the extreme, always polite, _dripping_ in boy-next-door-charm.

He had never had a whole group of people dislike him before! (Well, at least not because he was just being himself. They'd hated him because he was gay, but that was different – kind of.) He could hardly believe it.

"Shut up, they loved you," Kurt muttered back, rolling his eyes but he did make sure to keep them fixed on the slowly darkening road ahead of them. A quick flick of his wrist put his brights on and suddenly there was a bit more road to focus on.

"No, no, I'm pretty sure they didn't. I swear, Mercedes, Rachel and Tina kept glaring at me all night."

"No, Blaine, they weren't. I was watching."

"No!" Blaine insisted, picking at a loose thread on his jeans. "You had to look away at some point, and when you did, they glared. Every time you blinked."

Kurt chanced taking his eyes off of the road for a split second to send Blaine a disparaging look. "Do you have any idea how paranoid you sound right now? Because if you don't know, the answer is: A lot."

Blaine honestly wasn't one to pout, but he also wasn't one to be hated. Thus he found himself pouting somewhat pathetically at Kurt's last statement. "It's not being paranoid if everyone _is_ out to get you."

"If you're trying to get noticed, there are easier ways, you know. Besides, Carole absolutely adored you."

Blaine inclined his head slightly at that. He had to admit – of all the encounters he'd experienced, Carole actually seemed to enjoy him. Or, if not enjoy, she at least _tolerated_ him. She'd accepted his offer about an hour in to help her with dinner. He'd have done anything at that point to avoid Finn's glares in his direction.

"Yeah, okay... maybe Carole then, but no one else." Blaine grimaced, breathing a heavy sigh of defeat. "I honestly thought your dad was going to shoot me."

The pause between the end of his statement and the beginning of Kurt's answer was more of a hint than anything else that he maybe shouldn't have said that.

"I… don't remember you talking to my Dad," Kurt drawled lightly, but Blaine could feel the nervous glances in his direction.

"Uh, yeah. I was, um… held up. At the door. Remember?"

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"… I thought you just got lost," Kurt muttered back, his expression slightly tight. "Um… don't—don't pay much attention to my Dad. He's a little… uh..."

"Overprotective?"

"Yes, that's one word for it." Kurt swallowed, and Blaine pretended he hadn't heard it. "So… uh, what did you two talk about?"

"You, mostly. He cares a lot about you, you know."

"Yes, yes I know that." A brief smile flickered across Kurt's lips before it vanished again. "So…what about me?"

It had taken a few moments, but Blaine_ finally_ clued into what Kurt was obviously so uneasy about. He could have said a number of things in response. He could have brought up how Burt had grabbed his hand so hard he'd thought it would shatter. He could have brought up the subtle threats towards him if he even so much as considered harming Kurt.

Instead, he just offered his boyfriend as reassuring a smile as he could muster. As awful as his day had been, he didn't want Kurt sharing in that. "He asked how you were doing at Dalton. Told me to look out for you."

"Oh."

"Yeah, and I, uh… may have left my cell number with him."

"What?" Kurt whipped his head around to stare at Blaine. He recovered his sense a second later and focused on the road instead, but he was clearly tense. "Why?"

"Uh… He may or may not have implied that he'd like to be kept in the loop. I think he might, um… suspect that you've been..." Blaine paused to find the words, waving a hand vaguely, "skimming over details?"

Eyes still on the road, Kurt groaned and leaned forward until his forehead briefly met the steering wheel. "Okay, um… First off, I am _so_ sorry, and it's not because I'm ashamed or anything-"

"Kurt, no, I get it-"

"Ah-no, no, let me… uh, no." Kurt raised his head again, sighing. "It's just that he… uh. Well, he's been really uneasy ever since he learned about…"

Karofsky. Blaine knew. "Kurt, seriously," the shorter teen cut in, flashing his boyfriend the most easygoing grin he could find. "You don't have to explain yourself. I get it. It uh… it would have been nice to know beforehand, but I get it."

"Oh God, don't tell me—"

"No, no, he doesn't know." Blaine held up both his hands, grin turning crooked. "I clued in pretty quick. It's not my place to tell him, don't worry..."

Kurt took a moment to fix his posture, shifting in his seat. It took a moment or two, but Blaine eventually clued into the fact that Kurt was biting at his lip (and perhaps he was a little _too_ interested in that).

"...You don't... uh...mind?" Kurt finally asked, his voice so small that the sound of the engine almost drowned it out. "That my Dad doesn't... doesn't know?"

Feeling his heart both soar and ache for his boyfriend, Blaine shook his head. "You have your reasons, Kurt. Don't worry – you'll tell him when you tell him." Blaine flashed Kurt a grin. "One condition though: tell me when you're going to drop the bomb on him?"

"O...kay," Kurt nodded, sending his boyfriend a curious glance. "Why?"

Chuckling a bit sheepishly, Blaine shrugged. "I need to book my flight to Canada in advance. Once I cross the border, he won't be able to shoot me."

Either he just looked overly nervous, or Kurt found the insinuation hilarious. Either way, Blaine suddenly found his shoulder nudged and the truck filled with laughter. "You know, I think he'd actually be pretty thrilled that you're so scared of him."

"Terrified," Blaine corrected, with a sheepish grin. "Piss-myself terrified."

"Even better. He'll think he's doing his job right."

"Oh, he is," Blaine chuckled, "trust me."

Laughter again took precedence in the truck. Blaine limited himself to just a chuckle, taking honest pleasure in watching Kurt laugh. True, Kurt's friends had been making him laugh all day, but knowing that _he_ could still make his boyfriend smile – make him laugh – calmed some of the stress of the day.

"Thank you," Kurt said a few moments later, after his laughter had trailed off into the occasional chuckle. "For not... you know... minding. That I haven't told him."

"Hey, s'okay. It's really not my place to tell. I completely get it."

"Still," Kurt shrugged one shoulder, and the act was so close to the way Blaine moved when he was nervous that the shorter teen couldn't help a wider grin spreading across his face. "Not everyone would be okay with this – they may have said something... um."

Kurt quickly glanced at Blaine out of the corner of an eye before looking back at the road. "Thanks..."

"You already said that," Blaine pointed out grinning.

"Did I? Well, double the thanks, then."

Chuckling, Blaine tipped his head back against the headrest, raising both hands coyly. "Hey, I am an _awesome_ boyfriend, what can I say?"

In truth, he'd been teasing. That was how he'd meant the statement.

When Kurt glanced over at him with a softer smile, open and honest and said: "Yes, yes you are," there was no helping the silly smile that took roost on his face.

"Thanks, Kurt. You are too, I hope you know."

Kurt only rolled his eyes but Blaine caught the pleased smile before the light of the street lamp they'd passed under drifted away. "Of course. I am awesome, thus the boy I choose to be with will be awesome. It's written in stone somewhere, I'm pretty sure."

Blaine laughed, glancing back out his window. "Really now."

"Oh yes," Kurt nodded, his tone nothing if not light and coy in his amusement. "Though I suppose you _did_ sort of go beyond just mere 'awesome' tonight. Facing down Dad – AKA 'Burt Hummel' is not something for the faint of heart." He paused. "Or those with nervous disorders."

"Gotta say, I felt pretty neurotic with him staring me down like that-"

"Yes, yes, yes," Kurt rolled his eyes, smiling at the whine Blaine's voice had slid into. "My _point_ being: I _suppose_ I should offer some form of compensation. What do you have in min-"

"Kissing." Blaine cut in instantly, turning to send Kurt as serious a look as he could muster while the both of them were on the verge of laughter. "Definitely kissing. I missed out on a whole day of it covering for you. Kissing, for sure."

"Well, if you're su-"

"Positive."

The look Kurt sent him was all amusement and the both of them were already laughing before Kurt had managed to find his voice again.

"Well," Kurt all but beamed, "glad to see you're consistent."

Blaine nodded sagely, steepling his fingers together on his lap. "I have a hot boyfriend. It's an occupational hazard, I'm afraid."

"Fine," Kurt laughed, looking rather pleased with himself, "when we get back to the dorm, I don't think a bit of kissing-

"A lot."

"_A lot_ of kissing" Kurt corrected, rolling his eyes, "would be out of the question."

Perhaps it was a bit too nerdy, but Blaine found he really didn't care with Kurt. His boyfriend accepted everything about him, gave him an outlet for his less-than-gentlemanly moments and even found them amusing to boot.

Thus, when Blaine leaned back in his seat and whispered: "Yes…!" in silent victory, the answer he got was a shy laugh, a shove to the shoulder, and a smile that warmed his heart all the way back to Dalton.


	3. Chapter 3  Off To School

"So, let me get this straight," Blaine grunted, adjusting his stance to accommodate for the extra weight of the books Kurt had piled into his arms. "Just so I'm clear with your reasoning, and all..."

"Oh for the love of..."

"We have today off from classes. Post-exam day. Long weekend. With me so far?"

"Yes, Blaine, yes. Yes I am."

"Okay, good, just checking." Blaine nodded, fixing Kurt with a curious look as he peered out from behind the stacks of books in his arms. "So, no classes. Day off from school."

"You have mentioned this _several_ times so far."

"It's a very important point!" He argued. "So, naturally... no school. I can understand driving back to spend the day with your parents, but…seriously, Kurt. Driving two hours to get _away_ from Dalton… only to go straight to _McKinley_?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, turning back to a folder he'd left open on the desk in front of him. He spoke while rifling through the papers, alphabetizing what looked like sheet music from where Blaine stood. "Mercedes sent me an S.O.S. I can not just ignore that."

"What-" Blaine quickly adjusted the books in his arms as they started to slip. "What could possibly be so important? Is she all right?"

"Oh, of course she is." Kurt sniffed, grimacing at one of the sheets in front of him before subtly pushing it into the recycling bin beside the desk. "I told her that Dalton had no classes on Friday. She's been wanting to see us again anyway, but with exams..."

"Don't remind me. My head is still spinning," Blaine grumbled.

"Oh hush, I'm sure you did fine."

"Tell that to the blood, sweat, and tear-stained tissues on my floor."

"_Anyway_," Kurt cut in, casting an amused smile over his shoulder. "Mr. Schue's being an eighties-inspired caveman again and she sent me a text for help."

"Uh..." Blaine blinked. "Wait, so… we're here because a _rival Glee club_ is having issues with song selection?"

"No," Kurt snapped, but it wasn't vicious (okay, only a bit). "We're here because my _friends_ want to see us again, _and_ because they need help with Mr. Schue. While we're here, we're not rivals."

Kurt paused to turn around, wagging a finger somewhere around Blaine's nose. "We are not here to spy, so don't even."

"Okay, okay, no spying." Honestly, it had been the last thing on his mind. "But, okay, second issue... couldn't we get into... well, _serious_ trouble if someone catches us here? I mean... we don't go to McKinley."

"Not serious trouble," Kurt corrected, shrugging. "But I thought of that. Thus our street clothes – camouflage."

Blaine glanced down at himself and grudgingly did admit that he wouldn't have assumed he'd come from Dalton to begin with. Kurt had made him wear darkwash jeans and sneakers, for one. His shirt went down to his wrists and lacked buttons…well… _anywhere_ (which was honestly freaking Blaine out a bit; how was he supposed to get it _off_?) but the vest Kurt had _very_ grudgingly allowed had one in the center. His shirt was red; his vest was what Blaine thought was a nice auburn, but he'd still barely passed inspection.

Kurt was more...well...Kurt. His shirt was sky-blue, three-quarter inch sleeves and likely made for a woman. Something in the cut looked feminine, but (if Blaine was being honest), it _really_ looked good on his boyfriend. Plus, the fact Kurt's jeans were all but painted on was a plus.

It was a pretty big plus.

"With these, I think we're okay. Besides, we won't be spending a lot of time outside the Choir Room, so there's no danger."

"Uh… we aren't exactly there _now_, you know."

"Oh pff, I know." Kurt shrugged, turning back to what _had_ to be sheet music. "Hush, we'll be there soon. Mercedes said she and Rachel would distract Mr. Schue. It's my job to sniff out anything with 'Funk' in the title. Or pre-nineties." He gestured the discarded bit of sheet music, and then rolled his eyes. "Or anything that may compel Mr. Schuester to want to rap."

"He raps?"

"Getting him to stop sometimes is a real issue."

"Ouch," Blaine winced sympathetically. "Sorry."

"Your condolences are noted and appreciated, Mr. Anderson." Another sheet of paper slid down into the recycling, followed by another ten or so over the following three minutes.

It was only when Kurt's cell gave a rather audible vibration that Kurt stopped. (Blaine had insisted on it being turned on vibrate before they'd walked in. One, Lady Gaga still scared him. Two, Kurt kept it in his back pocket, and the mental image was...interesting.

... What? He was a teenage boy still, he could be excused a few perversions.)

"That'll be the 'all-clear' from Mercedes," Kurt muttered, quickly kicking the recycling bin under one of the desks and closing the folder in on itself. "We should have a few minutes. Come on."

He tucked the folder under one arm and then gestured for Blaine to follow. Blaine did just that, only _too_ happy to maybe be able to put the books _down_ relatively soon.

"Why am I holding these, again?" Blaine grunted, leaning sideways to watch Kurt as they walked.

"So no one pays attention to you."

"Don't you think," Blaine grimaced, "that a big pile of books might grab attention around here?"

"Not particularly. People will remember the books, not your face."

"Oh."

"Besides," Kurt went on, peeking around a corner (in a way that set Blaine's nerves on edge inexplicably) before starting off again. "I told Quinn that I'd pick them up for her."

"Quinn?" Blaine frowned, the name familiar, but not overly so.

"Cheerio. Blonde, formerly pregnant?"

"Oh, right. Quinn, gotcha. ...Wait, why did she want these?" Blaine indicated the books in his arms. "They've got to weigh, like, five, maybe ten pounds..."

"Later," Kurt murmured, hesitating a second too long before he stepped out from behind the last corner. He turned, walking towards the Choir Room across the hall.

A quick glance down the hall Kurt had hesitated near gave Blaine his answer. Flashes of red and white met his eyes as a pair of jocks walked away. Neither of them were Dave Karofsky, but Blaine understood Kurt's brief hesitation and suddenly really didn't want Kurt anywhere _near_ here.

Unfortunately, he knew that saying anything would likely be counterproductive and so, sighing, he raised the books higher and walked across the hall into the Choir Room.

Kurt stepped into the room first, looking around covertly. "Where is he?"

Blaine trailed in after, edging around Kurt (who had stationed himself in the doorway for his answer) and walked over to the nearest shelf so he could _finally_ put the books down. His arms were sure to let him know that they were _not_ pleased with him very soon. Of that, Blaine was sure.

"Mr. Schue?" Mercedes looked up, "Rachel's got him running errands 'round the school, but she just texted. They're on their way back," A wide smile on her face at first, she quickly sobered, sending Kurt a squinted look. "Did you de-funk the tunes?"

Kurt smirked, flicking his wrist to flash the – considerably thinner – folder to the assorted Glee kids. "I believe you owe us lunch for this."

Blaine tensed a bit at the 'us' and quickly looked over his shoulder. He caught Mercedes sending him a dry look and he tried to look as apologetic as he could. She didn't like him; that much was obvious. He was pretty sure that if he kept a low profile, he might just live through this.

"Completely de-funked," Kurt continued, his smugness briefly distracting Mercedes from glaring in Blaine's direction.

"Perfect," she grinned, taking the folder from Kurt. She made her way over to the stool near the whiteboard in the middle of the room (one Blaine could only assume was meant for the teacher) and set it down before quickly making her way back to the bleachers back across the room.

Waving an arm to grab Kurt's attention, Mercedes gestured to the space just to her right. "C'mon, Kurt. If you're gonna risk gettin' caught out, you might as well come sit, right?"

"An excellent idea." Kurt smiled, taking a step towards the bleachers but he quickly paused.

Blaine saw the issue before Kurt could voice it. There was only enough room for one person beside Mercedes.

Kurt glanced back at him, eyebrows pinched in concern but Blaine cut off his boyfriend's inquiry with as soft a grin as he could muster. "Uh—don't worry. You go ahead, I'll be fine; there are plenty of seats."

He was dead. He was _so_ dead.

Kurt's smile brightened though and Blaine supposed that would be an okay sendoff for his upcoming funeral.

Unfortunately, Blaine didn't get the chance to exactly scope out a place to sit. Just as he turned to look around the room (noting a kid in a wheelchair giving him an odd, squinty look, Tina, the boy sitting next to her that Blaine took to be 'Mike', Finn and Mercedes all but ignoring him, and a skinny blond girl appraising him with her two friends – cheerleaders, maybe?), a hand shoved against the small of his back.

Luckily the shelf he'd set the books on before was still in front of him. Blaine managed to catch himself before he could fall headlong onto the floor, but it didn't stop the shove from startling him.

"What-" he began, looking back.

"Watch it, bitchboy," smirked a taller teen, his hair shaved into what appeared to be a Mohawk at first glance. Blaine was pretty sure he'd been seeing things, until he looked up and realized that yes, yes that _was_ a Mohawk. Wow.

"Puck!" Finn raised his head, an instant grin on his lips. "Hey, man."

"S'up, bro," the teen, apparently 'Puck', answered with a smug nod.

Puck. Blaine had heard Kurt mention him casually before. Not much had been said and suddenly Blaine knew why; the boy was all but brimming with _over_confidence. He had 'bully' written all over him, but when Blaine glanced at Kurt to gage his response, his boyfriend only rolled his eyes and went back to chatting with Mercedes.

The blond with the slightly mousy face – Quinn, Blaine mentally corrected – didn't look so thrilled. Nor did the cheerleader with the darker hair. Blaine didn't know her name.

"...so I really think that _I_ should be the one to sing the part, Mr. Schue," a voice drifted down the hallway, "you _know_ it's in my range, and you know I am the only one who could _possibly_ hold down the part."

"Rachel," came the slightly strained voice, "I know. You've told me. Ten times."

"I just want to be sure you actually heard me this time. You've been known to _ignore_ my suggestions in the past." She rounded the corner, stepping into the choir room (and Blaine pointedly didn't look at her). "You _were_ listening, right?"

"Yes, Rachel, yes. I was listening – now, please? We're already late as is."

Blaine recognized the voice from Sectionals. Mr. Schuester had been seated all but directly beside him when New Directions had been performing and his comments of awe towards his students had not gone unheard. Blaine had never exactly heard the man sounding _this_ strained before, though.

When Mr. Schuester finally stepped into the Choir room, his annoyance was palpable. A faint line had been drawn between his brows (which was odd; Blaine had wondered if he _ever_ stopped smiling before) but it softened as he looked at the collected children.

He scanned the assorted teens, paused, and then frowned. "Sam and Lauren?"

"Beiste has her mitts on Sam," Puck chimed in, leaning back on the bleachers and stretching out in a would-be-obnoxious manner. "Dude didn't hit hard enough during practice. Beiste was out for blood, or somethin'. He said he'd come by if he could get away. I wouldn't count on it."

Mr. Schuester nodded, even if he did sigh in brief disappointment (and perhaps a little unease). "Okay. And, uh..." he trailed off, blinking as Kurt wiggled his fingers in a wave from the front row with a wide grin on his face. "...And uh, L-Lauren?" He cleared his throat, jumping back on track. "Anyone know where she is?"

"Dunno," Puck grinned, cutting in before the dark-haired cheerleader (who had sneered deep at the name 'Lauren') could say anything. "My lady does what she wants, when she wants. She's workin' on those rifts you told her to, though, Mr. Schue. Chillax."

"Yeah," Mr. Schuester muttered, his eyebrows drawn in suspicion. "Thanks, Puck..."

He glanced slowly around the room again and Blaine was fairly certain that he would have finally gained the courage to ask Kurt _why_ he was sitting in the Choir Room, but at that moment, Mr. Schuester seemed to finally realize Blaine was there. He blinked, doing a double take, clearly startled.

"Uh... hello. Do I-, uh, no." He squinted. "_Who_ are you, exactly?"

Blaine took a moment to push himself up from where he'd remained slightly slumped over the shelving unit Puck had shoved him into. He cleared his throat, fussing with his vest for a second as he turned to the teacher, a polite smile on his lips. "Blaine. Blaine Anderson; it's a pleasure, Mr. Schuester."

"Uh...yeah," Will blinked, looking – if possible – even more confused. "Do... uh. Okay, uh, Blaine. Do you even..._go_ to school here?" It was clear that Mr. Schuester recognized his face, but didn't know where he'd seen it before.

A quick glance at Kurt's sheepish shrug left Blaine with no definitive answer. He decided it was best to play it off until his boyfriend decided one way or the other.

"Can I help?"

Mr. Schuester blinked. "...What?"

Blaine gestured briefly to the man's full hands. He could see a coffee cup, a backpack slung over his arm (that looked _way_ too feminine to belong to him; Blaine was betting that it belonged to Rachel), a binder slung under the other arm, and a paper bag held in his only free hand. "Looks like you could use a hand."

"Um, I-," Mr. Schuester continued, his eyebrows drawing down in continued confusion.

"Here, let me," Blaine grinned. He reached over, very carefully lifting the backpack from the teacher's arm. He took great care in _not_ spilling Mr. Schuester's coffee as he lifted the backpack over the cup. "Rachel's, right?"

"Yes." The brunet nodded, blinking. "But, uh-"

Blaine gestured over to the stool that Mercedes had set the folder of sheet music on before. "You still don't look too steady, Mr. Schue," he said, snagging the familiar shortening of the teacher's name to throw off suspicion. "Maybe you should set those down before anything drops. I've still got a free hand; I could take the coffee?"

Though Mr. Schuester's mind clearly hadn't caught up with what was going on, he still just gave his head a quick shake and smiled. It was perplexed, and he still looked suspicious but it was significantly less. Raising his coffee cup, he declined. "Uh, no thanks, I've got it. Thanks though."

"Of course." Blaine smiled, nodding and turned to walk Rachel's backpack over to her.

She took it, looking slightly undecided and she didn't say anything, but at least it wasn't a glare. That was good...right?

Well, if that wasn't good, then Blaine felt pretty good as he glanced at Kurt. His boyfriend was laughing silently into his hand, trying to stop himself from being too audible. Even Mercedes looked amused, though she looked irked with herself for finding Blaine's misdirection funny.

Mr. Schuester blinked at Blaine once more before turning to walk over to his stool, most likely to find a place for everything he'd brought with him.

It was clear, at least, that the disgust that Finn, Tina, Mercedes and Rachel felt for Blaine hadn't spread to the _whole_ Glee club.

Mike didn't seem to like him at first glance. The string-bean of a teen kept on glancing at Tina and then sending Blaine funny half-glares. Clearly Tina had mentioned Blaine's screwup with Finn and Mike wasn't too pleased.

The boy in the wheelchair (Blaine was _killing_ himself to try and remember the name; Kurt had told him before, he was _sure_!) was just looking at him like he was some sort of alien that had descended into the classroom. Every few seconds, he'd just reach up and adjust his glasses, peering at Blaine all the more before glancing away. Blaine figured that was an undecided vote.

The Cheerios – Blaine hoped he was right in that assumption – looked amused. Or at least, the two blonde girls did. The one with dark hair sent Blaine a look that was nothing if not _completely bored_. She made a point to purse her lips, roll her eyes, flick up a hand (talk to the hand? Was that the saying?) and then glanced away.

Blaine took careful note that she seemed to stare at Puck a lot. He'd remember that; it seemed pertinent.

He was, however, slightly surprised when the blonde cheerleader that was _not_ Quinn quickly made her way down to seat herself beside the kid in the wheelchair when Mr. Schuester's back was turned.

Unfortunately, Blaine must have looked a bit _too_ shocked at the sight. The blonde either didn't care, or didn't notice. The wheelchair-bound teen did. He scowled, lip curling slightly, and Blaine _knew_ that look. That was a: 'Go ahead, say something; just _try_ it,' look.

He sheepishly glanced away.

Blaine made a note to himself: Glee kids do not follow social norms. Be less obvious in any surprise.

Before Blaine could even bring himself to chance looking at Puck to see where he stood with that teen (though he was pretty sure where), Mr. Schuester spoke up.

"Okay guys," he nodded to the assembled group, placing his coffee on the stool beside him. The rest of the items he'd brought in were set up around said stool. "So, we're down by two, but here's hoping they make it by the end of rehearsal. In the meantime, we seem to have a...well, a familiar face."

Blaine took very quick notice that Mr. Schuester's expression softened considerably upon seeing Kurt. He couldn't help but smile; it was really nice to know that his boyfriend had so much support no matter where he was.

"Kurt," Mr. Schuester smiled, "it's nice to see you again. But, is, uh... everything all right?"

"Oh yes." Kurt smiled back, raising his chin in a manner Blaine had long ago learned to describe as 'coy'. "Everything is just fine. I hope you don't mind us sitting in."

"Us?" Will tipped his head.

"Blaine and I," Kurt clarified, gesturing vaguely to the side where Blaine still stood.

Blaine tried not to make it too obvious that he knew everyone was _staring right at him, oh god_ and instead just raised his hand, sending Mr. Schuester a weak smile and wave.

"We had the day off at Dalton," Kurt went on. "Exams just finished there; they've got a few of them a year instead of just the two. It's pretty annoying, to be honest, but hey – long weekend."

"Ah, I see," Mr. Schuester nodded, though Blaine thought he still looked a little confused. "Uh...well… I-I suppose that's okay. You're not here to-,"

"Spy?" Blaine broke in, _needing_ to say something so he knew that people were looking at him for a _reason_ instead of just because they could. "No, Kurt got a text asking if we'd mind dropping by to spend the day. It's honestly pretty boring at Dalton – no offense, Kurt,"

"None taken," his boyfriend nodded, waving a hand for him to continue.

"So, yeah. I hope you don't mind if we sit in for a bit. Kurt really missed everyone and he's been making noise to visit for the past few weeks now."

"True," Kurt nodded again, smiling.

"Oh, well..." Mr. Schuester glanced at Blaine, frowning a bit. It was clear that he just realized Blaine had purposefully avoided answering his questions from before. Thankfully, his expression relaxed after a few seconds. He smiled when he glanced at Kurt again. "Uh, no, no, feel free. We're happy to have you again, Kurt. And, uh, Blaine too, of course."

Mr. Schuester took a quick look around and then gestured to the far right of the bleachers. "Uh, why don't you take a seat there, Blaine? Then we can start."

Blaine glanced to the space in question and all but felt his heart drop down into his shoes. He'd be seated between Puck (who would be in the row above him) and the boy in the wheelchair (the row below him.

He was as good as dead, really. Of that, he was sure.

Still, he just sent Mr. Schuester a smile and nodded before walking over to the bleachers.

"'Scuse me," Blaine murmured as gently as he could, stepping past the wheelchair (and blonde seated on the kid – Artie's? – lap) and taking the proposed seat. He was very, very aware that Puck was behind him; it was hard not to be. There was an all but a laser-intense gaze on the back of his head.

He'd almost forgotten why he hated the public school system. He now remembered.

Kurt owed him _so_ much kissing later; he wasn't even kidding. They were buying chap stick on the way home.

* * *

Blaine had known that New Directions was an amazing Glee club. He'd seen them perform before; they'd tied at Sectionals, after all. They'd been full of energy and enthusiasm up on stage; he could remember being slightly alarmed that Rachel seemed so _into_ her music all the time.

However, Blaine had simply assumed that it had been more or less an act for the judges. Hell, even The Warblers weren't as well oiled as they appeared on stage. Not all the time, anyway.

And, while New Directions wasn't exactly spot-on every waking moment, Blaine found himself gaping through the next twenty minutes or so.

These kids were _really good_. Kurt had told him not to spy; he wasn't spying. Still, it was plain to anyone with functioning ears that New Directions was a clear contender for Regionals.

Artie ducked his head through the applause that surrounded him as the final notes of the song he, Puck, Finn, Sam (who had scrambled in ten minutes earlier, looking windswept – or maybe that was just his normal hair?), and Mike had just finished.

_Everyday_, by Bon Jovi. It had taken Blaine a few seconds to realize what it was that the boys had been singing (they'd mixed it up a fair bit) but once he had, he literally couldn't believe his ears.

"_Amazing_, job, guys," Mr. Schuester said as he walked into the middle of the room again, clapping. He looked about as excited and awed as Blaine felt just sitting there. "Definitely a possibility for Regionals, especially if we can mash it up with something for the girls." He paused. "Artie?"

"I'll see if I can come up with something, Mr. Schue," Artie nodded.

"Let me know if you need any help," Mr. Schuester smiled. He glance quickly at the kids, only to note most of the girls looking at him. "And, uh, make sure to get input from the girls too."

From where he was seated Blaine almost missed it. But as his attention drifted from the sheepish way Mr. Schuester smiled at Quinn and Rachel, he watched as Mercedes blinked, turning to Kurt.

"Not that that wasn't great, but I thought you de-eighties'd the music?"

"_Everyday_ was 2002," Blaine cut in, not exactly whispering, but certainly not speaking at his normal volume.

It took him a few seconds to realize that not only was Kurt staring at him (and blinking his apparent surprise), but a few of the Glee kids were as well. He fought the urge to sink back on the bleachers. "...What?"

"Huh," Kurt piped in, amused. "And here I thought you were all 'skin tight jeans' and 'makin' dogs wanna beg'."

"I know Bon Jovi," Blaine defended, wincing at the rather unsubtle reminder of his past failure. "And I thought we agreed we were never mentioning that again. Ever."

"Aww, but you were so cute standing on the table. Those horrified shoppers couldn't take their eyes off of you."

"Kurt...!" He hissed back, feeling a hot flush start to creep up his neck. The worst of it was that when Blaine blushed, he knew it was _way_ too visible.

"Okay, okay. Anyway, Mercedes..."Kurt turned away to return to the conversation he'd started with his friend.

Blaine in no way thought he was off the hook, though. Instead he just grimaced (noting that even _Mr. Schuester_ was looking confused at Kurt's cryptic statement) and he tried his hardest to remain visibly indifferent.

The fact the skin at his neck was a little blotchy in his embarrassment was certainly not helping.

"Skin tight jeans, dude?" Puck muttered under his breath, chancing a glance at Mr. Schuester before he leaned in to speak with him. "Katy Perry? Seriously?"

"We'd just put together a new arrangement," Blaine muttered, the flush creeping a bit higher up his neck. "We wanted to try it out in front of the school."

"But dude... it's Katy Perry," Puck snickered, "the _Cheerios_ used Katy Perry before. Dudes do not do Katy Perry." He paused. "Unless it's... y'know, _doin'_ her. If you get my-"

"Yes," Blaine grimaced, glancing over his shoulder. "Yes, I think I get your meaning. You don't need to elaborate."

"Whatever, ladyman," Puck snorted softly. He gradually reclined against the bleachers again, kicking his foot to rest about an inch from where Blaine sat. "Didn't know if you guys still understood the fine art of 'women'."

"I'm gay, not impotent."

"Same diff."

Blaine opened his mouth to respond, his eyebrows already drawing down in an affronted manner.

Kurt beat him to the punch. "I _can_ hear you, you know," he drawled blandly.

Blaine – rather incredulously – noted that Kurt, once again, sounded _amused_ instead of hurt, or pissed off. He was rather sure that 'pissed' was a perfectly acceptable response.

"Dude." Puck rolled his eyes and leaned forwards. (Blaine tried very hard to ignore the fact Puck seemed to delight in using his shoulder as an armrest. He _really_ wasn't a fan of the punk.) "Prove me wrong. How much tail you got goin' for ya?"

Kurt smiled sweetly. "_More_ than enough, Puckerman."

"More than _you've_ been getting, I hear," Blaine muttered under his breath, shrugging Puck's arm off of his shoulder.

Unfortunately, he'd not anticipated Puck's superior hearing.

"What'd you say?" the punk snapped, his hand jumping back to Blaine's shoulder with viselike determination.

Right. Maybe there was a _reason_ all of Kurt's friends seemed to dislike him. Blaine mentally hit himself. He just could _not_ seem to keep his mouth shut.

"Ow," he supplied helpfully under his breath, expression twisting into a rather poor imitation of a smile. "Uh..."

Thankfully – and Blaine really did mean that – either Kurt had managed to read his lips when he'd made his comment, or his boyfriend was part bat.

As much as the geek in Blaine wanted to suggest 'Kurt Wayne', he suspected it was likely the former option.

"I believe he was pointing out your 'lack of tail' as of late," Kurt supplied helpfully, smiling.

"I heard."

"Well, isn't it true?" Kurt raised an eyebrow, sending Puck a mixed look of superiority and confusion. "Last I heard, Zises was still giving you the cold shoulder."

Blaine took very careful note of the fact that Kurt didn't exactly speak of the girl well. He seemed almost annoyed, maybe a little disappointed. She'd been his replacement, Blaine thought he'd heard. Yeah, he could see why Kurt wouldn't be too thrilled.

Puck glared at Kurt. Blaine saw and began to rise up to defend his boyfriend but – _much_ to his surprise – Puck just settled back in his seat again and snorted under his breath. "Duuuude, I got this. I'll get it eventually, some things are worth waiting for."

"Wow, man," Finn piped up from a seat or two away. "That was, like, almost sweet."

Puck grimaced. "As far as you bunch of losers are concerned, it didn't happen. Capiché?"

Finn rolled his eyes but nodded quite easily, turning his attention back to Mr. Schuester, who was once again fending off a Rachel-barrage of inquiries about solos. A funny little smile jumped onto his lips, Blaine was soon to notice, and...well, better Finn than him, he supposed.

What Blaine was _more_ than happy to notice was that Puck had released his shoulder. The punk had still shoved the heel of his shoe into the small of Blaine's back and was apparently using him as a makeshift footrest, but Blaine was pretty sure that the urge to strangle him had ebbed.

He owed Kurt one; he knew that. Thank God for boyfriends with supersonic hearing.

* * *

Just because Puck no longer wanted to strangle him, Blaine soon found out, did _not_ mean that he was off the hook.

The punk kept a foot against the small of his back for the next ten minutes. Whenever Blaine made to open his mouth, Puck would just grind his heel down more. He soon came to understand that Puck was obviously still pissed at him but that he couldn't outwardly do anything in front of Mr. Schuester.

And Kurt. Blaine wasn't sure why he thought that, but he was pretty sure that Puck didn't want to upset Kurt. Call it intuition.

Blaine was pretty sure that the subtle-but-not pain would have increased and continued had Mr. Schuester not suddenly caught sight of the books that Blaine had carried in.

"What are those?" He asked, seeming desperate for any excuse to ignore Rachel for a few minutes.

The assorted Glee kids glanced over to where his finger pointed.

"No idea, Mr. Schue," Sam shrugged, frowning. The bottle-blond cast a glance to his girlfriend, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh God," Quinn supplied, her lips thinning. "I completely forgot."

"Forgot?" Mr. Schuester frowned, turning to face Quinn.

"Coach Sylvester." Quinn grimaced. "I told her I'd make sure she got those books before. I asked Kurt to bring them down..."

It was Kurt that looked up then, drawing himself away from his conversation with Mercedes. "Hm? Oh, well, I can take them down for you if you want. No reason for any of you to miss practice." He smiled, but Blaine thought it looked a little thin. "After all, you actually _go_ here."

Something didn't feel right.

Blaine wasn't sure what it was until his gaze drifted over to the door of the Choir Room. He didn't know who it was that he saw in that split second, but a big body covered in a red and white uniform jumped out at him.

A jock. And Kurt wanted to walk the halls alone after a death threat?

Not going to happen.

"Uhm," Blaine sat forward, finally dislodging Puck's shoe. "No, Kurt, you stay."

He met his boyfriend's curious frown and grinned, shrugging. "You've missed your friends so much, making you go is no fair. I really don't mind – I carried them here, right?"

"I...suppose," Kurt admitted, though his frown didn't really abate. Blaine could tell that he was suspicious. "Do you even know where Coach Sylvester's office is?"

Shit. "Uh... no, but if someone could tell me...?"

"I can," Mr. Schuester piped up, nodding in Blaine's direction. "It's not too far away," he added. Blaine thought he sounded rather bitter at the fact the Cheerio coach was so close.

"Great." Blaine nodded, standing up. He sidestepped Artie and Brittany (the girl on his lap; he'd heard Artie say her name) and stepped down off of the bleachers. "Then it's settled. Um... Quinn, right?" Blaine turned to the blonde Cheerio that _wasn't_ on Artie's lap.

He waited for her to nod before continuing. "Um, Ms. Sylvester needs all of the books, right? All four?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, just wanted to be sure." Blaine turned, picking up the stack of books he'd been _so_ thankful to put down before. His arms protested but he wasn't about to go and let Kurt wander off. The possibility of running into Karofsky was low, but Blaine still valued that slight chance as too much.

"Um, thanks," Quinn piped up from where she sat. She offered Blaine a small smile. "Really."

Blaine noticed the way Sam inched closer to her and maybe-maybe-not gave Blaine a look that said not even to _try_ it. Blaine nodded in his direction but made it seem like he was responding to Quinn. "No problem. Ask Kurt, I could use the exercise."

Kurt rolled his eyes in response, smiling slightly. Blaine appeared to be forgiven for cutting in; he was glad.

"So, Mr. Schuester...uh, the office?" Blaine began, smiling hopefully.

"Oh. Yeah, um." Mr. Schuester gestured to the door. "Just out that way, turn left. Follow the corridor down until the third row of lockers and then make another left. It's the first door in the hallway."

"Thanks. I'll be right back."

Blaine nodded to the assorted teens, making sure to catch Kurt's eye and smile at him (something that didn't go unnoticed by the New Directions coach) before he turned and slipped out of the Choir Room.

The directions were, surprisingly enough, easy to follow. He walked down the hall, fighting to keep his grip on the books steady. A few people glanced at him curiously but he said nothing, simply making his way to the room in question.

He found it a little over a minute later. Or, at least he assumed he had – from what little he could see of the room, there were only trophies inside. A lot of trophies.

Shifting the books into the crook of his arm and trying his best to balance them, Blaine awkwardly reached out and knocked at the door. "Ms. Sylvester?"

Blaine waited in silence for a few moments. Then, though it was faint, a voice drifted through the door.

"Sue Sylvester does not answer her door herself, so if you're going to come in, get a move on."

Blaine thought that...odd, to say the least. And inconvenient, but he just sighed to himself and wiggled the doorknob until he could get the door open. His hands quickly went back to the books to prevent them from falling and – holding them steady – he walked in.

The door – somewhat ominously, Blaine thought – shut behind him. Maybe it was weighted? Or magnetic? He didn't know, it was just creepy.

"Um, Quinn told me you needed these?"

"And Easy-Baby-Oven couldn't bring them herself?"

Well, that pretty much pegged Sue's personality.

"Uh..." Blaine couldn't really see past the books, but he tried his best to locate Ms. Sylvester in the dim lighting of the room, frowning deeper. "Well, I suppose she could have, but I offered. Um... where did you want these?"

A sigh drifted through the room. "On the desk, chop chop."

Blaine hastened to do as he was told, setting the books down. He drew back as soon as he could, massaging the life back into his arms with an expression of clear relief.

"Oh dear sweet baby Jesus."

Blaine looked up, blinking at the slow, almost horrified look he was being given from the woman that sat behind the desk.

"It's finally happened."

"Ex…cuse me?" He frowned, looking over his shoulder but no, no, Ms. Sylvester was looking directly at _him_. "What's happened?"

"Will Schuester has finally uncovered the secret of genetic cloning – I'll kill him later, I was so close last Thursday..."

"Ma'am...?" Blaine frowned deeper. Was the lady…well?

Sue slowly stood up from behind her desk (and was she seriously wearing a tracksuit?) and Blaine got his first real look at the rather _tall_ coach.

"William has finally created his genetic duplicate." Her voice _dripped_ with surprised sarcasm. "Only in all of his brilliance, he's decided to take a page out of those _awful_ Austin Powers movies."

Blaine shook his head, his eyebrows drawing down in nothing but pure, unbridled confusion. "_What_?"

"He's made himself a Mini-me. Dear God, what has the world come to?" Sue tipped her head back, sighing. She ran her fingers through her hair. "Oh William, you've now personally made sure that there will be a global cry for hair-care supplies once you and your clone deplete the national reserves."

Blaine blinked. Hard. "Ms. Sylvester...?"

Sue fixed him with a suddenly bored look, one eyebrow rising in nothing but pure and complete sarcasm. "Well now, even Will is quicker than this. I'll cut straight to the point: I am mocking your ridiculous hairstyle."

She gave him a quick look over and smiled. "Maybe if I turn you over to the Ringwraiths, they'll give me one of their horses."

"Ma'am?"

Sue tipped her head forward, walking around her desk. She leaned in, sending Blaine a dry look. "I am calling you a Hobbit, son. This 'ridiculing' thing only works well if you keep up." She snapped her fingers in what Blaine knew was a rather condescending manner. "Chop, chop. Keep up."

He squinted suddenly, frowning. "Are you...even _allowed_ to say any of this to your students?"

"Of course I am. I resent the implication that the right of free speech isn't applicable to women in positions of authority."

Blaine blinked rapidly a few times and then quickly shook his head. "I—But I didn't _say_ anything like—"

"I'm sorry, your hair is so very distracting," Sue cut him off, sounding pensive. "At least with William I'm not forced to look at all of it. You're like a William-Hobbit in a vest and every time I look down, I'm forced to see the briarpatch growing on your scalp."

Blaine shifted, somewhat self-consciously. "Err. It's worse when I don't gel it back."

"If it gets worse than this, I may have to euthanize it."

"My... my _hair_?" Blaine blinked incredulously.

"I hardly think that this is a fair tradeoff," Sue sighed, turning around and walking back around to sit behind her desk. "I lose a Tickle-Me-Dough-Face Porcelain Gelfling, and gain a Mini-Me-Schuester-Hobbit. The Lord is cruel."

Blaine could only shake his head, getting more and more confused by the second. "Just—I don't even _know_ what your prob-" he began, somewhat hotly, only to cut off suddenly. He frowned at Sue.

"Is your face stuck like that? Because that is a truly horrifying thought," Ms. Sylvester piped up, reaching for a thermos on her desk.

"Porcelain?" The word rang a bell. After first coming to Dalton (and singing the duet with him at Christmas), Blaine could remember something that Kurt had said.

He had just come back to see Kurt getting dressed up to go out. Upon asking him where he'd been going, Kurt had rolled his eyes, smiled secretly and then said: "It's Porcelain to the rescue. Mr. Schue needs help shopping. I'll be back soon."

It had been such an odd thing to say that it had lodged itself in Blaine's memory. Kurt had mentioned a teacher that refused to call him by his real name at one point. Could... Blaine was honestly afraid to think of that teacher being Sue Sylvester.

Sue was just looking at him as if he had just hit his head on one of her trophies. "Yes, Porcelain. If you don't understand the word, I'm sure there's a dictionary somewhere in this place. We _do_ educate, though how anything can get through that rosebush of a haircut and seep into your brain, I honestly, truly don't know."

Blaine shook his head, frowning once more. "Kurt Hummel?"

Sue went silent, briefly. Blaine at least saw the way her eyes flicked up to his before her expression again relaxed into that smug, superior look. "You know Porcelain."

It wasn't a question. Blaine nodded, his frown deepening. "Yes... yes, I know him. He goes to my school."

Ms. Sylvester scoffed, her lips thinning. "You go to Dalton Academy?"

It was honestly a surprise that she knew where Kurt had gone before he even clarified. Blaine inwardly pulled back his anger and internal judgement from before. He'd wait this one out. "Yeah, I go to Dalton."

"What are you doing here?"

"Day off," Blaine shrugged, glancing at the books on Sue's desk. "We just finished one of the quarterly exams. Kurt missed his friends."

It was subtle, and _very_ faint, but Blaine saw Sue sit up a bit more. "You brought Porcelain with you, then?"

Blaine paused. Should he...? "...Yeah, Kurt's here."

Sue stood up and was out the door so fast that Blaine honestly almost missed it. He lingered for a half a second before his eyes went wider and he suddenly kicked off into gear, following as quickly as 'normal' could allow. He didn't know if he'd just made a mistake or not.

Sue was...well, she was _fast. _She strode down the hall like she owned it. Throngs of students parted for her (Blaine was quick to notice that they lurched away if she got too close).

He was lucky to follow in her wake before the students could reform their congealed trip down the hall. Sue Sylvester created a straight path through high school easier than anyone else Blaine had _ever_ known.

She walked directly to the door of the Choir Room and strode in without even pausing. "Porcelain!"

"Sue," Will jumped, and Blaine skidded into the room a second later, looking nothing if not sheepish. "This is a _closed_ rehearsal."

"Of course it is, Buddy," Sue rolled her eyes, sarcasm dripping from every pore. "That's why you let Porcelain and the Hobbit sit in."

"Hobbit?" Kurt grinned suddenly, sending Blaine an amused look. "Oh my God, I totally see it."

Blaine sent Kurt a petulant pout of sorts (seriously, Kurt owed him _so_ much for this; and possibly for the therapy he'd need upon returning to Dalton). "Hey now..."

He didn't get to finish. Instead, he watched as Sue located Kurt in the crowd. And, though no one else likely took notice, he saw her expression relax ever so slightly.

"Porcelain," Sue sighed. "Front and center."

Kurt blinked, frowned, and then glanced at Mr. Schuester. "Um..."

"Go ahead," Will sighed, though he sounded _very_ put off.

Kurt nodded and stood up. He quickly waved off the concern Mercedes was obviously showing and walked over to Coach Sylvester.

They shared the briefest of looks before Sue turned on her heel and walked out of the room. "My office."

Kurt hastened to follow, looking nothing if not quizzical. Blaine shrugged when his boyfriend turned to look at him. He had no idea either.

"Briar-Patch Kid, you too," Sue added after a second's pause.

Blaine tried his hardest to ignore the way Kurt muffled his laughter in the back of his hand as he quickly turned and raced after them both.

The sooner this was all over and he was able to take refuge in Dalton, the better.


	4. Chapter 4  Showdown

**A/N: **You guys have all been so amazing with reviews and well-wishes! I'm so thankful to all of you, and I wish I could respond to each of you individually as you never fail to make me smile! This chapter is hereby early, and it's the second-to-last. You could read this as the final one if you want – there's only an epilogue after this, but I'll be posting that sometime next week. Thanks again for everything; you guys are amazing!

* * *

Sue's office wasn't quite as far away now that Blaine knew the way. It also might have had something to do with the way Sue again parted the throngs of students with quick words, grunts and the occasional quick kick to the ankle. (That couldn't have been legal.)

Blaine was honestly rather horrified. He'd enjoyed Mr. Schuester and he thought the man was kind at least. He was a little clueless at times, but he had his heart in the right place.

If _Sue_ was the other side of the spectrum of teachers...?

No wonder Kurt had left McKinley.

Unfortunately, though Blaine would have loved to have more time to dwell on what a troll Sue Sylvester seemed to be, he didn't really get the chance. Sue's office loomed closer and closer and Kurt and the Cheerio's coach were a good few feet ahead of him.

He hated being short. He really, really hated being short.

That, and there was something in the way the blonde looked at him that made him hasten to hurry up. For the most part she seemed to ignore him, but ever since Kurt had joined the party, she was sending him looks that rivaled those of Burt Hummel.

It was _way_ disconcerting.

Kurt disappeared into Sue's office first, and Sue was close to follow. Blaine made an executive decision the next second and abandoned all hope of decorum as he launched himself the last few feet towards the office.

It turned out to have been a good choice. No sooner had he ducked into Sue's office (at the last second, at an _angle_, might he add – hold the applause) than Sue slammed the door shut, nearly on his foot.

Blaine decided that falling into the wall and pausing to shallowly catch his breath was about as dignified as he could hope to be in this situation. Thankfully Kurt hadn't seen his failure; his boyfriend was too intent on the woman who had moved around her desk to take her seat.

"Sit, Porcelain."

Kurt did as asked, casually crossing one leg over the other as he folded his hands in his lap. The foot propped up on his knee moved out, pushing the second chair out.

Blaine hadn't even been able to pull himself off of the wall to take the offered seat before Sue spoke up, her sarcasm almost sharp as she reclined in her seat.

"That chair is unsafe, I'm afraid. It's been finely attuned to attack any and all byproducts of Will Schuester. That includes Mini-Me-Vest-Wearing-Briar-Patch-Hobbits. You understand, of course."

Blaine sent Sue as sour a look as he could manage while still fighting to catch his breath. She obviously didn't care for him that much, and...well, much like the situation with Puck – the feeling was mutual. She cared about Kurt though and so Blaine made a note to hold his tongue.

"Vest wearing hobbit..." Kurt muttered to himself, his brow wrinkling in confusion. He slowly looked over his shoulder at Blaine, pensive and appraising.

His eyes widened a second later. "Oh my God, you're right."

"I always am," Sue chimed in pleasantly.

"Oh God, I _knew_ there was something that weirded me out when you put that on," Kurt went on, frowning at Blaine. "That vest totally makes you look like Mr. Schuester."

"And that's bad?" Blaine blinked, glancing down at himself. He kind of liked the vest. "I thought you liked him?"

"I do, but like an Uncle. Dear God, take it off, you are so never allowed to wear a vest again." Kurt grimaced and then turned back to Coach Sylvester. "Why would you point that out? Now _that_ image is in my mind. Do you know how creepy that is?"

"Any byproduct of William and his ridiculous hair is always creepy, Porcelain. I thought you'd know this by now." Sue said, folding her hands together under her chin.

"Eh." Kurt shrugged, glancing over his shoulder at his boyfriend (who was busy pouting and trying to figure out how to unbutton the one button on his vest). "Mr. Schue's hair is so much worse. Blaine's is just cute."

"Yeah, because that's what every boyfriend wants to hear," Blaine chimed in loudly from his side of the room.

Kurt just smiled and blew Blaine an over-exaggerated kiss.

"Disturbing," Sue deadpanned, before she straightened in her seat. "So, Porcelain, how's life filled with uniforms and more young blood than my first shelf of cheerleading trophies?"

Blaine glanced to the shelf in question, his eyes narrowing in unease. At this point in time, he truly couldn't tell when – or if – Sue Sylvester was just joking. He hoped she was at least, if only because Kurt seemed to shrug her comment off as false (or his boyfriend was just as twisted and didn't care, and if that was the case, Blaine was going to learn to sleep with one eye open).

"Dalton's been treating me well, Ms. Sylvester." Kurt shrugged, raising his chin. "The classes are harder, but the kids are kinder."

"And the teachers?" Sue prompted.

Blaine spared her a quick look. That question had sounded almost...legitimately interested and concerned.

"Nothing compared to the cast of crazy we have here, I assure you. They're polite enough." He inclined his head. "But I have to admit, I kind of miss the excitement here some days."

A flash of red and white caught Kurt's (and Blaine's) eye walking past the window, and Kurt's expression dimmed. "Other days, not so much."

"I see." Sue nodded, leaning back in her seat. "And your new Glee kids?"

"A new approach, for sure. It took a bit of getting used to." Kurt admitted silently. He then gestured back over his shoulder. "Thankfully, I had some help in getting used to it."

Blaine froze when Sue looked at him. He irrationally decided to stay still in the odd hope Sue wouldn't be able to see him.

"Lucky for you," she commented. "Do the parasites in the Choir Room know that the Hobbit is your boyfriend yet?"

Blaine glared wholeheartedly at Sue, but Kurt just chuckled. His fingertips found the fringe of his bangs to brush out of his eyes. "Uh...no, no I don't think so. And they're my friends, Coach."

"Friends, parasites," Sue shrugged, "Same thing, really."

"I don't think that's very fair," Blaine frowned.

"Has anyone ever told you that you sound like a black transexual with hormone injections?" Sue piped up, sending Blaine a deadpan look. "Because you do."

"Coach." Kurt huffed, raising his chin, but Blaine was _convinced_ he saw a small smile on Kurt's lips. "Lay off of Blaine, if you would. He's sensitive."

Blaine gaped outright at his boyfriend and he must have looked wholeheartedly stunned, because Sue just smirked at him and nodded her agreement.

"If you insist. But in return for this monumentous occasion, I now reserve the right to call you Gelfling as well."

Kurt squinted for a second, seeming to consider the proposal. Then, sighing deeper in his throat he nodded his agreement. "Okay, fine, deal. But only for today."

"Agreed, but only because it's you." Sue scowled in a would-be-petulant manner, but let the topic drop soon enough. "How's the new policy?"

Kurt frowned slightly. It was clear that he'd noticed the faint note of resentment in Sue's voice. Hell, _Blaine_ had heard it, and though the woman irritated him to no end, he did feel a little bad for her.

"Needed," Kurt sighed. "I... I know you offered to look out for me, Coach. I do, and-"

"Save your apologies, Gelfling, I don't need them nor do I want them." Sue sniffed. "What I do need is confirmation that what happened here is _not_ happening there."

For a few seconds, Kurt simply stared at Sue, his lips faintly parted in an 'o' of surprise. His eyebrows drew down in brief contemplation and then he finally nodded. "...I'm not being harassed anymore, no. Dalton is one hundred percent tolerance."

"Good." Sue nodded, her lips twisting slightly. "In the future, when I gain enough followers to help me overtake the School Board, that knowledge will do me in good stead. It's nice to have a school to lead by example."

Blaine seriously had _no_ idea if she was joking or not.

Sue smirked, and the bloodlust in her eyes was almost too visible for those few seconds. When she came back to herself it was as simple as changing position. She looked at Kurt again, pondering, and then glanced over at Blaine.

"How's life with the Hobbit?"

"Um," Blaine cut in, scowling. "Hello? _Hobbit_ still in the room."

"Go to the corner and tame the Hobbit-Jew-Fro, Frodo," Sue barked at him in return, rolling her eyes. "Preferably with something that doesn't resemble swine semen."

"Coach..." Kurt broke in briefly.

"Oh, right." Sue nodded. "As punishment for my lapse in memory, I will refrain from calling you Gelfling for five minutes. Now, answer the question, Porcelain."

While Blaine silently tried to erase the mental image of his hair gel and 'swine semen' in the same context, Kurt sat a little straighter in his seat. He fussed idly with his hands, thumbs knocking together as he contemplated the question.

"I'm not really sure how you knew we were... you know," he trailed off.

Sue snorted. "Your oversexed Glee monkeys may be lacking in the subtle arts of observance, but that is not something that Sue Sylvester says for herself. It's obvious to anyone who cares to look."

"And you care?" Kurt hedged tentatively.

Sue pressed her lips to a thin line and opted to stay silent.

Blaine wasn't exactly sure what made him do it, but something in Sue's expression led him to speak up. She looked... uncomfortable. Almost as if she'd never been asked truly if she cared for someone before, and she didn't know how to voice it.

"Uh, Kurt? She asked you a question."

"Let him take his time, Elijah Wood, it's a pertinent question," Sue snapped over at him, but Blaine could have sworn he'd seen a note of thanks in her eyes.

Kurt sighed softly but did drop the previous subject. He leaned back in his seat, head slowly canting to the side and considered the question fully. "Life with Blaine..." he murmured, glancing briefly back at his boyfriend.

Blaine offered a weak grin in response, and a soft smile broke out onto Kurt's face. He turned back to Coach Sylvester with the same smile in place.

"Actually, really amazing. I'm happier than I've ever been, with the exception of missing my friends, and a great deal of the faculty here. Blaine's nothing if not a gentleman – a dorky one at times, mind – but a gentleman." Kurt chuckled, ignoring Blaine's hissed protests from across the room. "I really like Dalton, and I really like Blaine. I do miss you guys though..."

Sue nodded, glancing briefly over to Blaine and then back at Kurt. The action repeated a few times and both boys remained silent as she mentally pieced together whatever puzzle it was that she was trying to work out. It took a good twenty seconds of silent contemplation before Sue slid her eyes closed, sighed, and then opened them again with a dry smile.

"_We_ miss you too, Porcelain."

It was the most honest and heartfelt thing that Blaine had heard her say so far. Her meaning was clear: _I miss you_.

And if Kurt's eyes were a bit too glossy when he blinked the next time, Blaine wasn't going to say anything. He just waited for Kurt to take in a deeper breath and let it out as a shuddering sort of laugh. His grin was forced, but Blaine could see the truth behind it.

"Besides," Kurt smirked, "I'm pretty much surrounded by boys in uniform daily, and I'm not talking about jock-chique. Not to mention Blaine's basically the equivalent of a Cheerio at Dalton; I'm doing pretty well for myself."

Blaine felt his stomach all but drop out at the appraising look that Sue gave him. He instantly held up his hands. "Woah, uh, okay, he didn't mean that _exactly_. Cheerios are _your_ area, I'm so not into that."

"Oh come now, sure you are," Kurt snorted, turning around. Blaine saw the spark of mischief in his eyes. "I've seen you dance, and you picked up on my old Cheerio routine pretty well..."

"I did _no_ such thing—wait." Blaine blinked, suddenly sidetracked. A small, goofy little grin had landed on his lips. "You were a Cheerio? Really?"

"And on the football team, yes," Kurt shrugged, rolling his eyes. "My extra-curricular activities astound me."

"This is more than I ever needed to know, I'll have you know," Sue muttered from where she sat. Blaine wasn't sure if she looked annoyed or disgusted, but it was amusing either way.

He ignored her. "So wait, you mean that _hellish_ thing that you called a 'dance number' was your old routine? Really?"

"Yeah, pretty much. It's a great workout; Coach Sylvester is a genius."

Sue straightened a little at that and there was no mistaking the smirk on her lips. "I am; it's true. But I'd rather not listen in on what you two do when the doors are closed, thank you. It's almost as frightening as imagining Will with his Obsessive Compulsive Ginger."

"Emma married Carl," Kurt reminded her, turning back around. (Blaine took quick note that his face looked a bit pink.)

"There are some images that not even looking at the Wound Care Center can erase, Porclain. Trust me."

Blaine cleared his throat and stood a little straighter. The conversation had dipped briefly into the realm of 'awkward' and the three of them fell silent. It lasted only as long as it took Sue to recover from her brief visual.

"So, you really are doing all right?"

Kurt sent her a smaller smile and nodded. Pretenses were all well and good, but it was clear that Kurt really valued and respected the woman before him, and the feeling was obviously mutual. "Yeah, I am. Blaine is... I'm really happy. Both with him, and with Dalton."

Sue nodded and sent Blaine a look. Then, slowly, she stood up.

Kurt made to stand as well but Sue calmed the urge with a brief raise of her hand. She walked across the room to stand in front of Blaine, looking down at him with as blank an expression as ever.

Blaine looked up at her in turn, fighting the urge to sink back. He now fully understood the term 'mother bear', but in Sue's case, he figured a lioness was a bit more accurate. Plus she was tall. Very tall.

Why was everyone in McKinley _so damn tall_?

He swallowed, not exactly sure what to do. "Ma'am?"

"It's 'Ms. Sylvester' to you, Hobbit," Sue said, but her voice was bland and as soft as it had ever been towards him. "Now, I am going to impart to you three pieces of wisdom that you should never forget. Are you ready?"

Blaine hadn't even managed to nod, or ask, before she began.

"One," Sue scowled, holding up a finger only an inch from Blaine's left eye. "I hope it would be obvious, but if ever you do anything to injure, upset, or degrade Porcelain in any way that he didn't explicitly ask for – because God only wants to know what you do in your spare time – I will personally find a way to shove your eardrums full of earwig larvae and have them eat you from the inside out."

"Coach Sylvester," Kurt straightened, horrified. "What are you—"

"No, Kurt," Blaine muttered back, even if he was _severely_ creeped out. "It's okay. And number two?"

Sue's lips thinned, but Blaine could see a smaller spark of approval in her eyes nevertheless. She held up her second finger, leaning down enough to put herself more at his level. "Two. Porcelain can damn well take care of himself, but that does _not_ mean that you shouldn't protect him if the need arises. He's a spirited little filly and he thinks he needs to take on a lot more than he really does. Make sure he doesn't get to that point, or it will be wasp larvae instead."

Despite himself, and despite how uneasy his stomach suddenly felt at the _idea_ of bugs (he _hated_ bugs), Blaine found himself smiling. A quick look at Kurt showed his boyfriend torn between speaking up in his defense, or just gaping.

Blaine looked back at the woman before him and watched her hold up her third finger. His smile widened and just as her mouth opened, he cut in.

"Wait, I think I've got it," he chanced. He wasn't _sure_, but he was pretty sure he knew where she was going with this. He'd seen the concerned looks she'd sent Kurt before, and she obviously knew his background.

"Three," Blaine said clearly, "Kurt's a smart, charming, funny, _wonderful_ person and I'm to remind him of that as often as I can. Once a day at least, because he deserves that and so, so much more." He looked up at Sue. "Right?"

She seemed to be trying to hold back a smile; her lips were pressed thin, but the light of mirth in her eyes was obvious. "You forgot the part where I shove a full family of rabid gophers down your trousers and belt your pant legs so they can't get out if you fail to do that. But I suppose you've already said the rest, and while I could have said it _better_, I won't."

Blaine smiled and chanced a look back at Kurt. His boyfriend looked slightly horrified still, but Blaine could see the gentle slope of the blush adorning his face just then. He looked unsure, slightly worried, but there was a definite smile and possible look of awe on his face. Blaine briefly made sure to meet his eye and Kurt startled a bit, but eventually cast a soft, sheepish sort of smile in his direction. Blaine returned it.

"All right, that's enough of those googly eyes," Sue chimed in, grimacing. "Though I will say: Porcelain?"

Kurt blinked, slowly getting out of his chair. "Uh...y-yes Coach?"

"I hope you realize that while these helpful hints were for your oddly Hobbit-like boytoy, they also apply to you as well. Minus the insects and gophers, "she added offhandedly.

Kurt blinked again, but a small, odd smile landed on his lips. "I thought you weren't so fond of him?"

"His hair is absolutely atrocious and he reminds me rather a lot of what would happen if Frodo and William had a baby," Sue admitted, quite flippantly. "But as far as personality goes, he's not the worst you could do."

Blaine wrinkled his nose, sending Sue a rather disparaging smile. "Um. Thanks? I think?"

"Sure, Coach," Kurt laughed, but the lightness to his voice was infectious. Kurt looked positively _giddy_ at the approval. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Make sure you do," Sue nodded, and then spun on her heel. "Now hop to it, Smurf and Cherub, back to the rest of your mouthbreathers."

"Smurf?" Blaine grumbled, grimacing, but he calmed as Kurt took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. They both followed Sue back out of her office and made sure to keep in her wake as she strode purposefully back down the hallway. Suddenly she looked a lot more confident, a lot more protective than she had before.

It was a bit of a struggle for Blaine to keep up still, but he did notice that Sue had slowed considerably from the walk _to_ her office.

The thought was... crazy, to say the least. But he thought she maybe kind of _approved_ of him now. Maybe even liked him?

It was... appreciated. After the New Directions' greetings, having someone _like_ him meant a great deal to him. Even if that 'someone' _was_ Sue Sylvester.

It didn't take them a long time at all to reach the Choir Room once more. Sue strode in without pause (eliciting a snarl from Mr. Schuester), but just as Blaine went to follow after her, Kurt tugged on his hand a little and Blaine slowed, turning back.

Kurt was biting at his lip when Blaine looked at him, and he looked slightly unsure. It was a real nod to how comfortable Kurt was towards him now; just a few months ago, Kurt would have kept the 'Huge Bitch On Campus' façade up no matter what. To see him looking unsure, especially in an area that other people could potentially _see_ him warmed Blaine's heart.

Screw holding his hand, Blaine carefully unlaced their fingers and slid an arm around his waist instead. The height difference made it a bit awkward, but it still felt natural. (Plus, if he was honest, Blaine kind of liked the fact that Kurt was taller than he was.)

"Yeah?" He prompted gently, stroking Kurt's opposite hip. "Kurt?"

"She means well," Kurt said after a few seconds. "Coach Sylvester. You know that...right? I mean, she can be abrasive and...well honestly downright mental, but—"

"Kurt, don't worry." Blaine smiled, squeezing Kurt's hip in an encouraging manner. "She's not my favorite person – that position has been reserved for you."

"But?" Kurt prompted, hopefully.

"But," Blaine went on, smiling, "She cares about you, and a lot at that. Honestly probably more than you know." Blaine paused to squint at the doorway, but decided to keep quiet about how much Sue had said; how instantaneously she'd darted off upon learning of Kurt's arrival. "She's probably been the favorite person – present company excluded – that I've met all day."

Even at the slightly backhanded compliment towards Kurt's friends, the younger teen's lips spread into a smile. Near-beaming, Kurt chuckled softly. "Okay, so… thanks. Not many people, um, take to Ms. Sylvester instantly. She uh... she comes on a bit—"

"Crazy?" Blaine supplied.

"Yes, that's one word for it." Kurt rolled his eyes. Then, after casting a quick glance at the door to the Choir Room, Kurt leaned in and quickly kissed Blaine.

It was chaste, almost too quick to even be called a kiss to begin with, but when Kurt drew back, slightly red-faced and cleared his throat, Blaine could only grin. "What was that for?"

"For... everything." Kurt shrugged, clearly embarrassed, "coming with me today, being nice to my friends, helping out, even _not_ fighting with Ms. Sylvester." He glanced over at Blaine, tentative, and smiled. "It means a lot."

"Anytime." Blaine smiled back, managing to hold the genuine expression for a few seconds longer before it delved into a slyer grin. "Especially if it ends with kissing."

"You know, I'm beginning to think you might have a problem."

"I do, you're not kissing me right now."

Blaine sent Kurt his most exaggerated pout and Kurt leaned into him, laughing helplessly. Blaine was sure the gentle ribbing and banter would have continued for a bit longer had it not been for the raising of voices within the Choir Room and the sudden call for 'Gelfling and the Hobbit'.

Oh. Right. Sue.

Kurt, still laughing softly under his breath, gave Blaine's hip a squeeze (and Blaine wasn't sure _when_ Kurt had wrapped an arm around him in return, but he wasn't complaining) and walked into the Choir Room. Blaine followed suit, perfectly in step with Kurt. He didn't think much of it, really. In Dalton they couldn't be overly affectionate, but there wasn't anything against holding hands or walking with each other as they were doing now. He'd seen no reason to change his outlook at McKinley.

He had, however, forgotten that Kurt hadn't told his friends (well, maybe Rachel and Mercedes) that they were dating. By the way New Directions (including Mr. Schuester) fell silent when they walked into the room, gaping openly, Blaine quickly remembered.

"Oh," Blaine said, stupidly. "Oh yeah.

"Oh," Finn repeated, blinking. His statement seemed to be echoed in at least half of the students in front of them. "Um...err, congrats, dude."

There were a few smaller nods. Rachel and Mercedes stayed silent, not even _beginning_ to look away from Blaine. He could feel their combined gaze beginning to curl the gel in his hair.

"Um...when did, uh..." Finn made a vague gesture to Kurt and Blaine, and then (for _some_ reason), down towards his pants.

"Oh, God Finn," Kurt grimaced and shook his head, holding up his free hand. "Stop that question right there. I will answer it later, when you're not pointing at your _crotch_ as if it has some connection to my relationship. Okay?"

Finn looked a little red in the face. Artie was snickering into the back of his hand and Santana was outright grinning her head off. "Uh, yea, okay bro. Whatever you say."

"Like I was saying," Sue suddenly cut in, reminding Kurt and Blaine that she was there. A quick look proved quite amusing; she had forced Mr. Schuester to perch on his bench, looking much like a cat backed into a corner. "As a teacher, you should be more aware of your students."

"Blaine _isn't_ a student of mine, Sue," Will grumbled.

"But the rest of your _New Directions_ are. When I walked in to grab Porcelain, all your sweet little Glee-Angels – your dear sweet children who sing of love and acceptance and all that Disney baloney – were seconds from shanking the kid."

Blaine froze. So did the rest of the children in the room.

He wasn't sure what to think all of a sudden, and if the looks around the room were any indication, no one in the room had known that someone had seen them hating on Blaine. Rachel and Mercedes cast each other quick looks, frowning. Puck straightened considerably, and even Artie looked sheepish all of a sudden.

"Hobbit is a skank?" Britney piped up, smiling. "I knew it.

"Shank, sweetheart," Artie grumbled, ducking his head and steadying Britney on his lap. "Shank."

"I don't know _what_ you're talking about, Sue," Mr. Schuester continued, rolling his eyes. "My kids would never-"

"Never what?" Sue cut in, raising her voice sarcastically. "Would never pull pranks on someone they don't like? Would never get even by getting ahead?"

"Of course no—" Will tried, but Sue pulled back, smiling wide.

Blaine noted instantly that the smile was fake. Even so, he felt a smaller smile on his lips. She was...honestly and truly _standing up for him_.

Okay, so, maybe Ms. Sylvester wasn't _so_ bad.

"Of course not!" Sue mimicked, and then whirled around to face the kids. "Right Jew-Con-Airstrip?" She smirked, singling Puck out. "You'd never give anyone a hard time, would ya? I bet I'd never catch you _dead_ shoving your foot into some kid's back and texting your buddies to throw that same kid in a dumpster later, would I?"

Puck blinked, not exactly pale but certainly not comfortable. Blaine watched as he slowly palmed his phone (he'd been in the middle of texting something) and slid it into his pocket. "No way," he shrugged, smirking. "Never."

"And you, Tater-Tot," Sue continued, smiling at Mercedes. "I'd never catch you singling anyone out and conspiring with your Diva-Loompa to humiliate anyone in the parking lot after school would I?"

Rachel gaped openly, her mouth moving but not exactly working. Mercedes straightened and frowned, shifting in her seat. "No, Coach."

"Excellent," Sue went on, all but purring her silent victories. "And I'm _positive_ Chimmy-Chonga over there would never be contemplating any variation of 'Kick Me' signs for a young Hobbit-in-Training."

Mike shrank in his seat and a note of paper surreptitiously fell to the floor behind the bleachers.

"You guys..." Mr Schuester began, jaw dropped. He sounded as though he couldn't _believe_ what he was hearing. Unfortunately for him, he didn't speak up fast enough.

In Blaine's silent adoration of Sue Sylvester, he'd forgotten the fact that his boyfriend was _right there_ beside him.

"Oh my God," Kurt whispered under his breath. Blaine quickly looked over at him, following the slope of the glare that was slowly traipsing its way down Kurt's brow. He looked incredulous, angry, on the verge of potentially being apoplectic. "You mean you guys—"

He cut off, straightening, and then whipped around to face Blaine. "You mean you were actually being _serious_?"

Blaine blinked, managing a meek sort of shrug and a sheepish smile. "Uh..."

"Oh my _God_!" Kurt tightened his hold on Blaine's hip and turned to face his friends, shaking his head. "Oh my _God_, you guys! What the _fuck_? I thought he was just being paranoid!"

No one said anything. In fact, almost as a whole team, New Direction's eyes were aimed at their feet or at the floor. With the exception of Britney - she was still smiling happily at her Hobbit-skank connection.

"Language, Kurt," Will tried, but shrank a bit as both Sue and Kurt turned full-on-glares in his direction.

"This is amusing, Will. You are not ruining my pre-Schuester-kicking entertainment," Sue stated calmly.

Kurt, seeing an opportunity when it was given, finally let go of Blaine and stepped towards his friends, hands gesturing wildly in the air. "Oh my _God_, and here I am defending everyone? Seriously? What could—I mean, _why_ would you even _think_-!"

"Um," Quinn piped up suddenly, her lips twisted. "Not to poke a hole in your collective womanly hating of everyone, but not _everyone_ is at fault here. I've got no problem with your man."

"Same," Sam shrugged, awkwardly. "Provided he, y'know, stays away from Quinn."

"He's _gay_!" Kurt all but shrieked, incredulous. "Of course he will!"

"Just saying," Sam said sheepishly, half-ducking behind Quinn.

"I just think the dude is boring," Santana drawled, pursing her lips and raising an eyebrow. "Like, seriously. Hello, another gentleman? Let me buy you dinner, laugh and skimp on the sex after? Uh, yeah. He's cute, but boring, yeah." She shrugged, glancing at Blaine. "No offense."

"Uh," Blaine frowned. "None… taken? I guess?"

"And what about you?" Kurt snapped, turning his attention to Artie.

The boy in question frowned, shifting as much as he could with Britney on his lap. "I don't... I mean..."

"I uh," Blaine cut in, frowning hesitantly. "I kind of think I may have hurt his feelings, Kurt. That one's probably my fault..."

"What do you mean?" Kurt whipped around, glaring.

Blaine shrugged. "When Britney went over to him, I was a bit too surprised, I think." He turned his attention to Artie, biting lightly at his lip. "Um… it might be too little, too late, but I really _am_ sorry if I offended you."

Blaine wasn't sure, but he thought Artie might have relaxed just a bit at that. He pushed his glasses up, still not looking at Kurt, and nodded. "It's… okay. I guess these guys have had time to get used to...well, this." He gestured to his chair. "You? Not so much."

"Yeah," Blaine nodded, smiling sheepishly. "I'm more used to it now, though."

"And _you_?" Kurt cut in, snarling. "What did he do to you? You _just_ met him!"

Puck, who Kurt's latest snarl had been aimed at, simply rolled his shoulders in a shrug. It was outwardly clear that Kurt didn't intimidate him one bit, but the way he closed his legs to "hide his junk" pointed towards some discomfort. He raised an eyebrow and held his arms out wide. "Dude totally insulted my chick-magnetism. The Puckster's got a _rep_ to uphold, yo."

"No, I think _I_ was the one who insulted your 'rep'," Kurt snapped back, glaring. "No, in fact, I'm _positive_ it was me."

"Well, yeah, but dude did it first." Puck frowned, glancing briefly at Santana.

"Don't look at her, she is so not getting involved in this, you asshole," Kurt cut in. "And _dude_ has a name. It's _Blaine!_ Up your mental facilities a bit, Noah."

A collective 'ooh' arose from a few of the kids as Puck straightened, but a rather pointed glare sent towards Puck's now crossed legs had him settling back into his seat, chagrined. Or at least as close to chagrined as Puck _could_ be.

"It's uh, it's okay if he's not so fond of me, Kurt," Blaine hedged gently, placing a hand on his boyfriend's shoulder. "Not like I'm all that fond of him either..."

Kurt whirled around, turning his attention to Mike then, but Blaine _swore_ he saw a note of a grin pass Puck's lips at what he'd said.

"Fine. Chang! What about you?"

"Tina," Mike said, instantly, sinking back onto the bleachers. "Tina doesn't like him."

"Mike!" Tina hissed, her teeth gritted.

"Learn to form your _own_ opinion, Michael," Kurt growled towards the cowering teen, but that was all he aimed at Mike. His attention was on Tina. "Speak."

"W-well..." Tina frowned, shrugging. She pointedly avoided looking at Blaine. "Rachel and Mercedes were telling me that he was another Jesse, and—"

"_What?"_

The assorted children fell silent. Quinn quickly leaned in to murmur something in Sam's ear, probably telling him _who_ this 'Jesse' was. It was something that Blaine suddenly really wanted to know too, but no one seemed all that forthcoming with information.

A quick glance towards Mr. Schuester and Sue proved to be no help. Mr. Schue looked pained, a wince in place as he watched Kurt reaming out his students. Sue, on the other hand, looked rather like she could go for a bucket of popcorn for the remainder of the 'film'.

"You two?" Kurt asked, softly. "Seriously?"

Mercedes averted her eyes, but Rachel straightened and took a deeper breath. "Kurt, we were _concerned_ with how quickly you took to Blaine. I did the same thing with Jesse, and-"

"He is _not_ Jesse." Kurt said, deadpan but vicious at the same time. "And _forgive me_, Berry, when I say that I think I have more sense than to affiliate myself with someone like that. Blaine has been nothing if not perfectly accepting, open and honest with me from the beginning. He didn't turn me in for spying when I still _went_ here, so he clearly has more morals than _some_ people."

Kurt cast a quick glance at Puck, who scowled, before turning his attention back to Rachel and Mercedes.

"I understand _why_ you did, I suppose," he began, but Mercedes cut in.

"Kurt, I'm sorry. It's just...you were desperate for someone – like you- to accept you, and you clung to him really hard at first. Like...seriously hard. We didn't want you settling, or... well..."

"I get it."

Kurt blinked, turning back around to look at Blaine – who had spoken – and frowned. Blaine shrugged, smiling somewhat awkwardly over at Rachel and Mercedes. The last thing he'd wanted to do was get his boyfriend so worked up, and as awful as the girls had been to him, Kurt _needed_ them. Besides...he kind of did understand where they were coming from.

"They didn't want you tricking yourself into thinking that I was a better guy than I really am."

"Are you defending them? Seriously?" Kurt hissed back, but Blaine only shrugged.

"They're your friends, Kurt. I don't hate Ms. Sylvester for threatening me, she was protecting you. They were doing the same thing…kind of."

Will cast Sue a sidelong look but she didn't bother looking at him. Clearly she wasn't about to explain herself.

Kurt, however, just frowned. He was clearly still upset. Twin spots of color still remained high on his cheeks and he was so tense that even Blaine's back was beginning to hurt just looking at him. His hands were clenched into fists and he still looked as though he might lunge at the next person to say something against Blaine.

It was flattering, and sweet, if Blaine was being honest. If he was being completely honest, it was Kurt's defense of him that made it easier to deal with the fact Kurt's friends hadn't been so warm to him at first.

"I...suppose," Kurt admitted, after a few seconds. He turned back to the girls, scowling still. "While I suppose I get it – because of _Blaine_, might I add – I just seriously can _not believe_ you guys didn't say anything to me first."

He shook his head, raising a hand to gesture around the classroom. "I had to leave this, all of this at McKinley because of _exactly_ what you were doing."

Blaine had never seen a group of people go pale so quickly before.

"Do you have any idea how disappointed I am?" Kurt went on. "God, I just... just _stop_. Okay? No more bullying, no more ostracizing – if anyone has an issue, _please_ come to me." Kurt pursed his lips, taking a deep, steadying breath. "I promise to listen. Provided there is _never_ any more of this. Okay?"

For a long few moments, no one said anything. Rachel looked almost like she was about to cry – clearly she hadn't thought of _what_ she'd been doing as a whole, and it really wasn't settling well with her. Mercedes didn't look much better off, but her epiphany was internal and it looked painful.

It was Mr. Schuester that took over, slowly getting off of the bench to frown at his students. "Okay, Kurt. I can say for everyone that _none_ of this will be happening again. Ever. Right guys?"

A chorus of affirmation followed his statement, even if most of the voices were hesitant or shamed.

Kurt sighed softly, reaching up to pinch at the bridge of his nose in a gesture that seemed to beg for comfort. Blaine tentatively stepped over, reaching out to place both his hands on Kurt's shoulders. He squeezed, leaning in to murmur softly into his boyfriend's ear, but Kurt hardly seemed to hear him.

"Finn?" Kurt said, finally, frowning. "I didn't ask you. What's your issue with Blaine?" Kurt sounded disappointed. There was no other word for it.

Clearly Finn had picked up on it as well, because he looked guilty, uncomfortable. For a few seconds he just frowned, clearly having issues finding the right words. Blaine glanced between them for a second before sighing.

"I'm sorry, man," he said, softly. "I know what I did. I shouldn't have said it – I swear I didn't mean it like it sounded."

Finn glanced up, startled, and frowned down at Blaine. "You knew?"

Blaine shrugged, but offered a wry sort of smile. He ignored Kurt's questioning glance in his direction. "Yeah. You went all silent after I said it and you were kinda glaring the rest of the night. It was pretty obvious. But uh...seriously, I swear I was just curious. I didn't mean anything by it."

"Oh." Finn frowned. "Why didn't you say that then?"

"I uh, I did," Blaine admitted, shifting his weight. "I don't think you were ready to hear it."

"Oh," Finn muttered again. He glanced briefly down at Rachel, and then over to Quinn and then finally to Mr. Schuester. Then he sighed and looked back to Blaine, offering a faint smile. "Apology accepted. Suppose I was kind of, uh...quick to..."

"Yeah, but s'okay," Blaine smiled back, shrugging. "I would have been too. We cool?"

"Yeah, man, we're cool."

Kurt, who had been glancing back and forth between them for the better part of the past few seconds, turned to glance at Blaine. "Are you going to explain?"

"Later," Blaine smiled. "Promise."

Kurt didn't exactly look thrilled at the prospect of anything being kept from him at this point in time, but he relented easily enough, especially when Blaine sent him a hopeful look. "...Fine."

"Wow, Shortstack" Santana piped up, raising thin eyebrows and sending both Blaine and Kurt an appraising look. "You've got Hummel whipped. Nice."

It was only because Kurt suddenly looked so very incredulous that Blaine couldn't help but laugh. Really. That was the only reason. It had nothing to do with the fact that the rest of New Directions started to snicker and send Blaine appraising looks in a _positive_ way for the first time in what felt like months.

"I am buying your next birthday present at Wal*Mart," Kurt said with a huff a few seconds later. "Just so you know."

Santana rolled her eyes and Blaine thought that he might be able to get used to this brand of teasing. Just maybe.


	5. Chapter 5   Epilogue

**A/N: **As promised, here's the final part. I'm so thankful to everyone who reviewed and everyone who read! I am sorry that the story didn't feature Blaine reacting more to the bullying (I've had some people ask me about that) but the premises was humor, and fluff. Blaine seems the type – to me – to take the "better person" route.

With that said, I sincerely thank you all again and hope you enjoy the final chapter.

* * *

**Epilogue:**

* * *

"I still can't believe you were actually telling the truth," Kurt said for what felt like the fifth time in as many minutes, hours later. They were on their way back to Dalton, seated comfortably in Kurt's Navigator as he drove back towards their school. Blaine knew that his boyfriend was just feeling rather incredulous, and probably a fair bit rankled, he really did. But still – Kurt's doubt was beginning to mess with his ego a bit at the repeated phrase.

"Hey now," Blaine urged, leaning across the seat of Kurt's truck to somewhat awkwardly set his chin on Kurt's shoulder. "Do I really lie _that_ much?"

"Oh don't be silly, you know I don't mean it like that," Kurt sighed, though he cast Blaine a small smile just the same.

Blaine returned the smile, shrugging, and shifted a bit closer. He figured that it would likely be easier to cuddle with his boyfriend were he a few inches taller, but as he wasn't, he was fully willing to ignore the gearshift pressed painfully against his thigh if Kurt was.

"That can't be comfortable," Kurt commented, shattering Blaine's attempt at ignoring the pain.

"Not really," Blaine responded reluctantly, almost pouting. He moved his thigh and it just made the gearshift hurt him more and so he was quick to move his leg back to the previous position. "But it's not so bad. You smell nice," he added.

"Don't change the subject," Kurt rolled his eyes.

"But," Blaine sighed, and if he was whining a little, he didn't care, "if you're upset with your friends and trying to be my knight in shining armor, you'll be too busy yelling to kiss me. And you owe me."

He leveled Kurt with as serious a look as he could. "A lot. You'd better have chap stick at Dalton if you're not making plans to stop anywhere on the way back. Just saying."

If anything, Kurt looked amused when he glanced in Blaine's direction. Yet again he was in 'responsible driver' mode though, and so he wouldn't keep his eyes off the road for too long. It wasn't exactly dark outside yet, but it looked like it would be at some point very soon. Already the sun was bleeding its last few rays of golden light out over the skyline, and it was _beautiful_.

Or so Blaine kept thinking. He also made sure to keep looking from Kurt to the skyline and back again, feeling lighter and more at ease with himself and the world than he had in quite some time.

"You really do smell nice," he piped up again, voice slightly muffled in Kurt's shoulder.

"Oh come off it," his boyfriend scoffed, and Blaine could _hear_ the eye-roll. "You're already cleared for kissing when we get back, you really don't have to butter me up any more."

"Sounds sexy," Blaine grinned, well aware of the look he'd be given any second.

Sure enough, the slightly unnerved glance that Kurt shot his way was pure gold. As was the sigh. He could have done without Kurt elbowing him in the sternum, but Blaine figured he probably did deserve that to some extent. Even so, he didn't draw back, away from Kurt. He simply grunted into the teen's shoulder.

"Ow."

"You had that coming and you know it."

"I repeat. Ow."

"Baby," Kurt rolled his eyes again, but a quick glance up on Blaine's behalf fully showed the giddy smile on Kurt's lips.

"If I agree," Blaine said after a few seconds of comfortable silence. "That I'm a baby, that is – does that mean you'll forget being angry?"

Kurt cast him a slightly withering look and Blaine sighed.

"Okay, fine. At least until after we've kissed through an entire tube of chap stick?" Blaine amended, raising both eyebrows in what he hoped was a rather hopeful, endearing look.

"I repeat my earlier multiple mentions of the fact you probably have a problem. You're obsessed with kissing, Blaine."

"I have a hot boyfriend—"

"_Occupational hazard_," Kurt quoted, grinning and shaking his head.

"Hey," Blaine whined, and though he was careful not to knock the gearshift or make Kurt stray from the correct side of the road, he did squirm close enough to press a faint kiss to his jaw. Kurt, ever indulgent, dropped his right shoulder and leaned into it enough so that Blaine was comfortable. "That's _my_ line. You can't steal my line. Besides, Ms. Sylvester will gut me. Rule three, remember?"

"Oh my God, you're not actually going to _do_ those, are you?"

"Kurt," Blaine said seriously, "that woman scares me. She's probably already implanted some sort of chip on me to keep tabs on you. I am so not taking the chance."

Kurt sent him a _look_, and after a few moments of just holding Kurt's gaze (even if it did dart to the side to watch the road more often than not) Blaine sighed softly against Kurt's neck and sank back to rest his head on his shoulder. "Can I risk sounding like a complete idiot for a second?"

"When has _that_ ever stopped you?" Kurt sighed, but Blaine could hear the fondness in his boyfriend's voice.

"I like being able to tell you those things, Kurt."

Blaine looked up, his gaze nothing if not serious. Kurt, who chanced a glance down at him, soon shifted a bit in unease at the pointed look and glanced back ahead. "Things?"

"How attractive you are."

"Blaine, you don't _have _t-"

"I know," Blaine cut in, drawing back from Kurt's shoulder so he could send his boyfriend an appraising look. "I _want _to." He paused and then had to physically keep himself from raking his fingers back through his hair. "...look, you know I stink at romance."

"Your dorkish attempts are just as good, allow me to assure you."

Blaine couldn't help the slightly dopey smile suddenly on his lips. "Really? I'm glad, 'cuz—wait. No changing the subject."

"Thought I'd give it a shot," Kurt drawled back, but the smile on his lips was nothing if not infectious.

"Cheater," Blaine groused back, but he couldn't help his own smile. He sounded considerably less awkward as he picked up his previous statement. "As I was saying, I am pretty much the worst person ever with romance. You are probably the person that loves romance the most, so Lord only knows why you agreed to go out with me, even knowing that."

"Blaine, don't even—"

"Kurt," Blaine cut in, sending him a _look_. Kurt quickly stopped talking, though Blaine could tell he'd be getting an earful for the self-depreciating comment later. "That being said, I'm your boyfriend. I want you to feel special; I want you to know that the world sees you differently than... I'm beginning to think you do," Blaine hedged, taking quick note of the embarrassed flush working its way across Kurt's cheeks. "That _I_ see you differently than that."

"I'm sure I've no idea what you're talking about," Kurt sighed, but they both knew how weak the argument was.

"Yeah, uh-huh. Sure," Blaine muttered, leaning over to kiss low on Kurt's cheek. Taking care not to distract his boyfriend _too_ much, he settled in, just speaking gently into his boyfriend's ear. "I might royally fuck up any attempts to be romantic. In fact, I'm damn positive I do. I'm pretty sure your Dad nearly bust a blood vessel trying not to laugh at me when I tripped while walking you to your door the other day."

Kurt smiled, and Blaine could see the amusement shining in his eyes. "That _was_ a pretty spectacular fall."

"If falling was in the Olympics, I would _so_ bring home the gold," Blaine grinned, chuckling. It earned a small laugh from Kurt. "But, err, to continue... I'm normally not so hot trying to find words. You know – serious ones?"

"It's endearing," Kurt defended.

"Maybe," Blaine shrugged, kissing Kurt's jaw once more before heaving a small sigh. "But I don't want you to think I treat you – this- _us_ as a joke. 'Cuz I don't."

"Blaine," Kurt sighed, and Blaine trailed off to listen. Kurt was using _that_ voice. "I know you don't. I know. But seriously, you express yourself just fine. Whenever I'm in doubt, all I've got to do is lift your iPod and see what playlist you've got running."

Blaine gaped. "You _steal_ Jess?"

"Jess?" Kurt repeated incredulously, sending Blaine a look. "Not only have you named you iPod, but it's a _girl_?"

"Isn't that the rule?" Blaine grinned, sheepishly. "You know... girls name their stuff after guys, and vice versa?"

"Uh – no. No, Blaine, I've… no."

"Oh." Blaine grimaced. "Well, she is. I swear. I was calling her Luke at first and she gave me _Hell_, Kurt, you don't even _know_. The second I tried Jess, all the problems went away."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "...so, I'm forgetting that we had this little side-conversation. I already worry about your sanity sometimes - this isn't helping."

"Fair enough." Blaine shrugged. "But, seriously, I know you can kinda...guess what I'm thinking. But I like being able to _tell_ you. There's this smile that you have and it only comes out when you're feeling good about yourself."

"There is not," Kurt grumbled back, red-faced.

"Believe what you will, more smiles for me." And they were for him. Blaine wasn't about to mention that he'd never seen Kurt smile like _that_ for anyone else before. It was his little secret. "Point being... I _want_ to compliment you, buy you things, keep you happy. It makes me happy to make you happy—y'know, despite how, um...lame and...likely completely weird that sounds."

"Again, it's endearing," Kurt muttered back, but Blaine was quick to notice _that_ smile slowly working its way – albeit shyly – onto Kurt's face. "And though your efforts aren't needed in the least...thanks."

Blaine hid the overly-large smile that leapt onto his face against Kurt's neck. He could read the subtext in what his boyfriend had said fairly well; there was no need to worry – Kurt liked hearing what Blaine liked saying.

"You're welcome," was all Blaine said back, in a low murmur. He didn't even pretend to miss the faint shiver that went through Kurt as his lips brushed the other teen's ear. Perhaps a smart man would have turned a blind eye to let Kurt hold onto _some_ composure, but Blaine was flying too high at the moment to even consider it.

Instead, he grinned, wide. "Hah, that proves it. You are _so_ kissing me later."

Kurt – to his credit – didn't turn as red as Blaine had suspected he would. "Wh—I don't—" he began, only to scoff under his breath. "Just because you can do that... that _thing_ with your-your voice, that-"

Blaine, still grinning teasingly, dropped his voice again to murmur back, "what thing? _This_ one?"

He knew he deserved it (and preened) when Kurt shouldered him under the chin. Blaine pulled back, chuckling, as Kurt hunched both shoulders.

"_Yes_," his boyfriend hissed back, voice half-breaking on the word, "_yes_, that would be the one, stop it, you Neanderthal."

Blaine just grinned, crossing his arms over his chest, clearly pleased with himself.

"As I was _saying_," Kurt went on, clearing his throat. "Just because you can do that—_that_, you know what I mean – doesn't mean that I'm automatically kissing you later."

"Well," Blaine grinned, sending Kurt a sidelong glance from the corner of his eyes. "There's a full hour or so before we get back to Dalton – I'm sure you'll give in before then." He suddenly raised an eyebrow, smile turning coy. "I can be _very_ persuasive."

For a few seconds, Kurt stared at him, seemingly torn between being horrified and amused. "That is, like, the _worst_ come-on I have _ever_ heard," Kurt muttered eventually, his lips pulled into a smile that Blaine could tell he was trying – and failing – to hide. "Seriously, you're just..."

"Awesome? Yeah, I know." Blaine chuckled back, before turning a more boyish grin on his boyfriend. "And hey, if that doesn't work, I know how to be annoying! One way or another, take your pick."

"You are five, Anderson. Seriously. Five. Count 'em."

Blaine could only laugh, feeling light and carefree. He was half tempted to roll the window down so he could feel the rush of cooler air against his face – it seemed the perfect compliment to how he was feeling. However, the brief thought of what Kurt would _do_ to him if he rolled down the window and inadvertently messed up his boyfriend's hair killed the idea. It was fine, though – he didn't really mind. His grin made it obvious enough.

Before Blaine could find an answer to Kurt's previous statement, he was drawn away from his internal joyous musings. His pocket suddenly shook somewhat quickly and violently. To his credit, he didn't jump..._as_ high as he could have - not really.

He still jerked suddenly, let out a rather undignified "Hnh!" (that seriously wasn't as girly as it sounded – really) and lifted his hips somewhat awkwardly off of the seat of the Navigator. Startled, Blaine quickly glanced down, reaching his fingers back awkwardly into his back pocket.

Just as he pulled his phone out and blinked down at it, though, he caught sight of the slightly bemused look Kurt was giving him. His boyfriend looked torn between slight concern, and an attempt not to laugh himself silly. "What," Kurt began, a smile growing wider on his face with every word, "was _that_ noise you just made?"

"Shush, you," Blaine grumbled back, feeling his face heat noticeably. "My—my phone. I forgot it was in my pocket... I had it on vibrate."

"So," Kurt continued, and – damn him – he was actually biting his lip to keep from laughing, "so you kept it in your _back_ pocket, did you?"

"Do _not_ go there," Blaine leveled Kurt with a look, though he knew more than anyone that it likely looked wholly embarrassed. "Seriously, that was _weird_."

Blaine - ignoring Kurt's sudden heavy snort of laughter from beside him – took his phone into the palm of his hand, face heating even more. He hadn't meant to do that, and suddenly he was curious as to who had texted him. Well...less texted, more goosed him with his own phone. In front of his boyfriend.

Embarrassing. Yes, yes, _so_ very embarrassing.

It took Blaine a few moments to make out the number but when he did he could only blink. Then, curiously, he tilted the phone in Kurt's direction.

"Hey...uh, you know this number? It's not in my contacts."

Kurt waited until the traffic before him slowed, and then chanced a glance at Blaine's phone. He quickly did a double take, looking nothing if not incredulous and took the phone from Blaine's hands. Thankfully, his laughter fell to the wayside as confusion and bemusement again nested on his expression. "Uh...yeah. Yeah, it's... I'm pretty sure that's Puck's number...?"

He handed the phone back and Blaine pulled a face. Tentatively, he flipped it open.

_-Unread Message(s): 3-_

"Just a second," Blaine muttered, taking note of Kurt's nod before he flipped through the messages in question.

_1/3: _

_-So, dude, totally lifted Hummel's phone for your number earlier. Went for yours but seriously, bro. Your pants. 'Nuff said._

_Anyway, wanted to say I gu-_

_2/3: _

_-ess you're cool in my books. Rest of the guys are ok with you comin' back sometime. Take my advice and accept, dude. These losers want to make it up t-_

_3/3:_

_-o you, y'know._

_Laters.-_

"Does Puck know he's got a character limit?" Blaine asked mildly, after squinting through the message. Beside him, Kurt scoffed.

"He knows, and purposefully tries to make the phone cut words off. It is _so_ annoying, you have no idea."

"Oh," Blaine chuckled, "I think I may."

Even so, Puck's awful texting aside (though he _was_ honestly shocked that the guy didn't use textspeak), Blaine couldn't help an odd, bemused smile that slid onto his lips.

"So, what's the juvie-bait have to say for himself?" Kurt asked, tightly.

It only took one glance at his boyfriend to make it clear to Blaine that Kurt had _not_ forgiven his friends yet. Maybe this was only a ploy to try and get Kurt's friendship back? Maybe? Even so...it didn't _feel_ like it. Especially given the grin Puck had sent him back at McKinley.

At that point in time, Blaine had just been seriously weirded out, and a little pissed off. Now, with the text adding extra insight... well. Blaine wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not. After his day, though, any act of kindness or hospitality was welcome.

Even if it _did_ come from _Puck_ of all people.

"I, uh," Blaine began, scrolling back to the first message to read them all over again, just to be sure. He couldn't think of another way in which the messages could be taken. "Um... I think, maybe... it's his attempt at an apology? Maybe."

Kurt's expression once again became incredulous. He blinked, glancing at his boyfriend. "Puck doesn't apologize. To anyone."

"Well, no, he didn't – um, not in those words. Or anything," Blaine continued. Finally, he offered Kurt the phone and shrugged meekly.

Kurt snatched it up without hesitation. If anything, he just seemed to look _more_ surprised as he read the messages (while alternately glancing at the road to make sure he didn't sway). After a few seconds in which Blaine was pretty sure that Kurt was repeatedly reading the messages, Kurt just handed his phone back, looking so confused it was _achingly_ cute.

"He's apologizing." It sounded like _he_ didn't believe it. "I think someone corrected his grammar, because there is _no_ way he knows some of those words, but that means that they're all apologizing. I...seriously don't know what to say."

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Blaine nodded, echoing the incredulity, "I don't feel so bad being shocked myself, now."

"Yeah... huh. You going to answer?"

"Uh..." Blaine stared down at his phone, slightly unnerved. He still wasn't all that fond of Puck, and he was half-considering just pretending like he'd never received the message. However, a sidelong glance at Kurt effectively killed that plan.

His boyfriend looked hesitantly hopeful, and Blaine felt his heart melt just a little. He smiled, tired but soft. "Yeah. Yeah, I will. But when we get back to Dalton, or something, okay? I'm with you now."

"Such a gentleman."

Blaine knew Kurt had likely intended for that to sound sarcastic, but it only ended up sounding warm. Blaine smiled, wider than he should have.

Before he could make an effort to put his phone back into his pocket, it gave another – muted – vibration in his hand. Kurt remained none the wiser this time as there was no denim for the phone to bounce off of, and no seat for it to press into.

Thankful for small miracles, and curious again as that _same_ number popped up, Blaine secretly flipped the phone open, curious.

_Unread Message(s): 1_

_1/1:_

_-Oh shit bro. I just remembrd what Hummel said bout gettin' tail. You TAPED Hummel? Geez dude, your hardcore. Mad skillz yo, way to be, man!-_

Blaine could only blink down at the text in front of him, frowning. If anything, he was only more confused, and rather positive that he _had_ to be dreaming now. There was no way in _hell_ that _Noah Puckerman_ of all people would be congratulating him on anything. There was even less of a chance that the punk would be treating him like he obviously did Kurt's step-brother.

Blaine turned the phone around, upside-down, and sideways, squinting at the message. Sometimes if a phone was turned upside-down the message would change, maybe this was one of those? There had to be a hidden message _somewhere_...

Caught as he was staring bemusedly at the phone, he didn't realize that his incessant phone-tilting had attracted Kurt's attention. He also didn't clue into the fact that Kurt had read the message over his shoulder until his boyfriend gave an awkward choked laugh.

Blaine glanced at him, only to see that Kurt had turned slightly pink (his ears were pink – a surefire sign that he was embarrassed, and it was _so cute_) but there was no mistaking the broad smile on his lips. "_That_," Kurt said, awkwardly, "would be Puck's regular grammar."

"Yeah, uh..." Blaine squinted at the phone. "Was he trying to say 'tapped'? 'Cuz...I don't know why he'd be excited about me taping you. He used to hear your voice all the time."

"So not touching that one," Kurt mumbled under his breath, turning even redder if that were possible. However, Blaine figured that Kurt had said it low on purpose so that he'd be none the wiser. He respected Kurt's silent wishes, even if a small grin was threatening to pull at his lips. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm guessing he meant 'tapped'. Figures it'd be him to put two and two together in this instance."

Chuckling, Blaine nodded and closed his phone, making to put it back into his pocket before he decided against it. Instead he closed his hand around it, holding it absently against his thigh where he'd be safe from any repeat-vibrations.

Unfortunately, just as he'd gotten settled into his seat again and was trying to figure out what else to say, Kurt suddenly went rigid beside him.

"Oh my _God_," the taller teen hissed, seeming a mix of incredulous and pissed off. "That—Blaine, would you check my phone for me? Front right pocket."

Startled by the intensity of Kurt's glare, Blaine just nodded. He never had an issue with sliding his hands into his boyfriend's pockets – never had before, and certainly wouldn't anytime soon. When he withdrew his hand and gently waved the phone in the air with a smile, Kurt sent him a faint look. He smiled quickly but the look soon died.

"Do me a favor, will you?"

"Sure, I—yeah," Blaine nodded, blinking curiously.

"Flip through my contacts there. Bring up Puck's number."

Blaine did as asked (though it took him a few moments to figure out the alien mechanics of Kurt's iPhone). As soon as he found 'Noah Puckerman' listed, he selected the name and the screen flipped over to the contact information.

Blaine choked on air, and a bitten-off laugh. "Oh my God."

"He didn't. _Please_ tell me he didn't," Kurt grumbled beside him, pressing his forehead to the steering wheel in annoyance. "Not again."

"I didn't know he had a nipple ring," Blaine commented back, grinning much too wide to be considered any kind of normal.

"_Every time_," Kurt hissed back, hitting his forehead on the wheel once with a growl. "Every time he steals my phone, it's always something."

Blaine chuckled, unable to help himself. Even so, he did send Kurt a sidelong glance. "Well, he uh...he never... y'know."

"No, Blaine," Kurt replied, rolling his eyes indulgently, "he's never taken a snapshot of his dick and set it as my contact picture for him. Mouth, 'guns', clothed ass, and now apparently nipple, but never that."

"Creepy," Blaine grimaced, tilting Kurt's phone curiously to peer closer.

"It's _Puck_, of course it is. I'll text him back and tell him off for stealing my phone when we get back." Kurt trailed off, sighing. However, when Blaine didn't answer, he glanced sidelong at his boyfriend and sent him a dry look. "Do you want a moment alone with my phone?"

"What?" Blaine blinked, dropping his hand to his thigh again. "Wha—no! No, I wasn't—I've..." He shrugged, awkwardly, and tried to pretend he wasn't as red as he felt. "I've just never, uh, really seen something like that before. I was...trying to figure out the mechanics."

"You," Kurt drawled fondly, a small smile spreading onto his lips, "are _such_ a dork."

Blaine sent him a sheepish grin and shrugged meekly. He'd been caught out and he knew it, but it didn't seem like Kurt honestly minded, and for that he was grateful. "You love me anyway?"

"Yeah," came the amused chuckle, but Blaine was relieved to hear the warmth behind his boyfriend's voice. "Yeah – God knows why sometimes, but I do."

Blaine grinned suddenly, moving Kurt's phone to rest with his own in his other hand. Then, almost covertly, he leaned in to whisper into Kurt's ear, trying to keep a straight face until he finished. "Because – I am an _excellent_ kisser. Care for a demonstration?"

"Oh my God," Kurt laughed, and Blaine couldn't help but smile his satisfaction at how warm the sound was. "You really _do_ have a problem, you know."

"Well, I—" Blaine began, but he didn't exactly get to finish.

Before he could even begin to pronounce the beginning of the next word, Kurt took a quick glance at the road and then turned in his seat. His hand slid over Blaine's cheek, pulling him closer and soft lips (still pulled into a small smile) pressed against his. It was a soft and somewhat chaste kiss, really, but the way Kurt's fingers gently curled into Blaine's hair to keep him in place was perfect.

Blaine hummed a small note of pleasure, returning the kiss indulgently. He wasn't exactly expecting it when Kurt nipped at his lower lip, and he especially hadn't expected his boyfriend to lick and then suck gently at the place he'd nipped before drawing back, but Blaine really wasn't complaining.

"Hey, no, wait," Blaine managed, almost embarrassingly breathless as Kurt righted himself in his seat to pay attention to the road once more. "That was awesome, do that again."

Rolling his eyes and taking a hand from the wheel to shove at Blaine's face fondly, Kurt just laughed. "When we get back to Dalton – _if_ you behave. Okay?"

"Promise? 'Cuz this is too important for you to weasel your way out of," Blaine said seriously, attempting to convey the gravity of the situation to Kurt by leveling him with a look.

It backfired. Kurt suddenly started to laugh in earnest, but he was delightfully flushed when he took his hand back and sent Blaine a softer, almost shy smile. "Yeah, okay, fine. I promise. Just behave, or we'll never get home. And don't' forget to text Puck back."

"He can wait, kissing first. Whole tube of chap stick, Kurt, I'm so not joking."

And maybe a _whole_ tube of chap stick was a bit much to hope for, Blaine knew that. But it was well worth the suggestion to see the way Kurt's blush crept down his neck as he chuckled. It was also well worth the softer, fond look that his boyfriend sent him.

It was that look more than anything else that made Blaine smile back. So what if Kurt's friends weren't so fond of him, and so what if Kurt's Dad wanted to see him mounted on his wall like a hunting trophy? If he could make Kurt smile like _that_, at _him_ at least once a day?

Well, then maybe all the other baggage didn't matter. Kurt was well worth it, and Blaine had a pretty good inkling that he always would be.


End file.
